The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 35: Cupbearer

Chapter 35: Cupbearer
The following day, Yeren sat in the library awaiting her.
An hour had passed since he had sent for her.
Resisting the urge to pour himself some wine, he busied himself with a book of poems he had acquired when he was much younger.
A knock broke the veil of silence.
He dropped the book almost immediately - mostly because he hated to look like a poem-loving romantic.
As expected, she walked in. She was dressed in a fancy blue silk dress. It didn’t suit her as much as the green he had sent her for the trial.
It was because of her eyes - they were green. A very beautiful shade of green.
"Your Grace." She skirted a graceful courtesy - the best she had ever given him.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"You kept me waiting."
She flushed slightly. "Somethinf urgent kept me behind."
"Might I know what this urgent business is?"
The colour on her cheeks darkened.
"My sister. I had to attend to her."
His gaze softened.
"How is she faring now?"
Her shoulders relaxed at the genuine concern in his tone.
"Better, Your Grace."
"And the mate mark?"
She met his gaze briefly. "We visited the chapel. The priest asked us to visit again in a week’s time, Your Grace."
He nodded. "Do call me Yeren. We are beyond the phase of acquaintances."
Her brow arched up.
"Beyond the phase? You barely know me."
His eyes glinted with mischief. The only thing he didn’t know about her was what she had under her dress.
Bright red flooded her cheeks.
"You know everything, I forgot."
Yeren perched himself on the edge of the long reading table.
"I don’t... at least not yet. That’s why I spend a great deal of my time in this room." He gestured around the room.
She followed the direction of his hands. He could see the curiosity in her bright eyes as she perused the rows of books that framed the walls.
"Why did you summon me?"
He adjusted his robe. Her discomfort was the best form of entertainment. Even her flowery scent was deceptively intoxicating.
"Good question, Claire. Have a seat."
She sank into the chair across him hesitantly with a soft thud, struggling to arrange the folds of her gown around herself.
"I hereby appoint you as my cupbearer." He let the words hang in the air between them.
The colour on her face spread to the tips of her ears.
"I cannot possibly be your servant... you and I know that. You can rather name me your concubine for all the world to see!" Her voice was slightly raised.
Yeren ran a hand through his hair.
"Let the world see. I wouldn’t touch you."
Claire rose from the chair.
"I beg to decline."
"I didn’t ask you, Claire. I was informing you."
Every time he called her name, her gaze darted to his lips, he noticed.
He enjoyed rolling the name off his tongue, savouring the way her eyes slightly lit up. He was winning the game - she just didn’t know it yet.
"I have been many things... just not a servant." Her voice cracked.
Struggling not to twitch his hands, he crossed his ankles.
"You’re not a servant to me. My cupbearer is highly esteemed."
"But the court would whisper."
"Let them. I need a Cupbearer, you are available."
She blinked at his matter-of-fact tone.
"What will be my duties?"
He thought for a second. His main aim was to protect her - and what better way than to have her by his side for most of the day?
"Serve me wine... and be a companion, I should think."
Yeren watched her throat work at his mention of ’companion’.
Her eyes scanned the room, resting on the jug of wine seated on the shelf.
"I have no expertise in the art of wine pouring."
"None is required." He teased with a smile.
Claire took a step back.
"I doubt it. Perhaps..."
"Would you like to rehearse?" He cut her off neatly.
Her eyes widened. "Now?"
He nodded.
Slowly, she moved to the shelf and picked up the costly jug and goblet. Her hands shook as she set them down on the table beside him.
When she dipped to pour the drink, her cleavage was visible to him. All he could see was creamy skin, smooth as silk and without blemish.
The flow was cut off precisely when the liquid had reached the half mark of the goblet. Yeren silently applauded her sense of measurement.
"Do you drink wine?"
She glanced up. Their faces were close.
"On occasions. But I don’t fancy it."
He cocked a brow.
She handed the glass to him.
Instead of taking it, he just stared down at her outstretched hand.
"Your Grace-"
"Help me drink it."
Her eyes widened like two saucers.
"I beg your pardon? I don’t think it is the duty of a Cupbearer to-"
"Do it." His gaze darkened.
Her face tightened into a scowl.
"You’re bent on humiliating me." She muttered.
"When there’s no one here?"
She glanced around the room, as if testing the truth of his words.
Leaning forward, Claire tipped the goblet over his lips. He parted them in preparation to drink, guiding her hands closer.
She jerked when he touched her hand, slightly spilling the content of the goblet on his satin brocade.
"Forgive me..." She began mumbling, patting away at the mess she made.
Yeren grasped her hand and forced her to remain still.
"You’re still thinking about it."
Her gaze darkened, falling briefly to his lips before returning to his eyes.
"About the night in the garden."
Claire snatched her hand away but didn’t move.
" I was not."
"It shows on your face... too clearly."
He took the goblet from her and set it on the table, their hands brushing slightly.
He felt the slight shiver that pulsed through her.
If she kept standing so close...
"Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. But... you never really answered-" She broke off.
"Answered what?"
Her eyes drifted to his lips again.
"What you want from me."
He held the edge of her sleeve and pulled her closer.
"I made it clear. You just don’t want to believe it. Is it because you’re in love with someone else?"
She snatched her hand away but didn’t move away.
The way the sun caught on her hair was...
"The matters of my heart are of no concern to you. It’s not like you would marry me."
He felt the barb in her words.
The prejudice stood between them, clear as day. And he couldn’t ignore it even if he wanted to.
"Marriage? I thought you once said that such would happen over your dead body?"
Her gaze lowered.
"I didn’t imply any interest in marrying you - I was just stating the obvious reason why improper relations between us is impossible."
"Improper relations?"
"This." She gestured at the non-existent space between them.
"I’m not holding you."
Her color heightened.
"This is why I can’t be your Cupbearer. It isn’t a role fit for a woman."
He brushed her hair away from her eyes.
Claire stiffened at the tender gesture.
"Why, if I may ask?"
She tried speaking but stopped.
"Because you want me?" He teased.
Her glare returned in full swing.
"Because I hate you."
Yeren resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"You didn’t hate me the times I kissed you."
Her throat worked.
"Because..."
He waited patiently for her to speak, half-smiling.
"I have no say."
Yeren looked her dead in the eye.
"Tell me what you feel now."
His lips brushed hers slightly.