Queen of the Lycan Karina Espinosa (classic books for 10 year olds .txt) 📖

the lunas back in my room for the final fitting, I left the fitting room to head back to the office.

It had been a week since Bash—my soon to be mate—and I arrived in Scotland, and it had been a whirlwind since the moment our feet touched Scottish soil. With excruciatingly long meeting after meeting, a host of boring social events and parties, and obligations belonging to my soon-to-be-office of Queen of the Lycans, I hadn’t had a moment to myself until … now.

This walk to the office was the only alone time I got. Well, that and any time I went to pee. And I made sure to take an extra-long time peeing. Except the last time I did, some of the King’s Guard came knocking on the bathroom door asking if I was okay. It was beyond embarrassing. I was forced to tell them I was taking a shit. It wasn’t like I cared what they thought, but thankfully they left immediately after. When I returned to the meeting, all eyes were on me. I was pretty sure the guards relayed my message verbatim.

To say I’d been all grace and light since arriving at the castle would be the understatement of the year. Becoming a princess wasn’t easy, but I couldn’t even imagine how much more difficult it would be when it was time for me to be Queen. Which, incidentally, would happen later this week. My coronation was this Sunday and I dreaded it with every fiber of my being. I wished time would slow down and maybe freeze. Because if I could barely handle being a princess, Lord save me once I had the Lycan crown on my head.

I walked down the hall toward the council room, my eyes wandering over the walls lined with portraits of previous MacCoinnich Kings. I couldn’t help but be intimidated every time I passed by. They were all so serious, and I felt like their eyes followed me with each step I took. It was creepy.

I would be the first woman on that wall. I felt like a misfit, and the seriousness of my impending office draped around my neck like an albatross.

I reached the double doors of the council room and stepped inside. Inside, there was a mahogany table that could easily fit twenty people. Today, it held the King’s Council with Alexander at the head—my biological father and the current King of the Lycan. The seat to his right was empty, but Ranulf, his right-hand man, sat at his left. I avoided everyone’s eyes and humbly took my seat by Alexander’s side.

The council room was a blend of a war room and a rich man’s study, complete with the scent of expensive cigars wafting in the air. If I didn’t feel out of place before, sitting beside the King in front of his Council certainly did the trick.

“It’s about time,” Jacob grumbled as I took my seat. Jacob was a member of the Council and a cantankerous old man, to boot. His remaining hair was bristly and gray, with a shiny bald patch atop his head.

I kept quiet because that was what Alexander wanted me to do. Stay quiet and listen. He’d drummed this mantra into my head so many times I’d lost count. So I bit my tongue until it drew blood.

“Now can we start?” Finlay demanded brusquely, slamming his meaty fist on the table. He was the only ginger on the Council. Some of the others had a touch of reddish auburn going on, but Finlay was a full-on ginger, with a fiery temperament to match. “We’ve waited for the Princess, and now she’s here.”

Alexander cleared his throat and straightened his tie before leaning forward. “The meeting is in session. What do we have on the table?”

“The coronation,” Jacob grunted sourly. “The Highlanders should nae be invited. This is nae that kind of affair.”

I edged forward to say something, but Alexander whipped his steely-eyed gaze at me and I stopped. The Highlanders were a pack of feral lunas who lived in the highlands of Scotland, mainly Caledonian Forest, which surrounded Sheunta Village. It was dangerous for the people of Sheunta Village to enter the forest before I came and met with them. They helped me during the Freedom War, and ever since, we’d been working on a treaty to reintegrate them back into society with Alexander. Shutting them out from my coronation was a bad idea.

“The treaty with the Highlanders is very delicate,” Alexander explained diplomatically. “Inviting them to the coronation is a show of good faith that we want them involved in our society again.”

“But we don!” Callum, another member of the Council said. “They’re feral, nothing more than savages! They’re nae civilized.”

My hands fisted under the table and it took every ounce of willpower to keep my claws retracted. They spoke as if they weren’t savages, like they were civilized and had evolved past the point of bloodshed. But deep down, we were all savages. In that regard, we were no better than the Highlanders.

“My decision is final. The Highlanders will be in attendance,” Alexander declared, his voice strong and commanding.

I peered at Alexander with renewed respect. His nearly black hair was wavy, with gray hair peppering the sides. One roguish curl dipped over his forehead, which always reminded me of Superman. Alexander wasn’t bad looking for his age, which I would put around the late forties, maybe early fifties. He had piercing gray eyes that were identical to mine and a MacCoinnich trait, and slight wrinkles on the corners of his eyes when he smiled. But he wasn’t smiling now.

There were murmured grumbles from everyone up and down the length of the table and I was struck with the urge to lash out and make them bend to my will with violence. Half of these old guys couldn’t take me on during their best day. But I knew I needed to calm down. Violence wasn’t the answer to everything. Hell, it wasn’t the