The Lycan King's Secret Daughter novel Chapter 10

SYLRA’S POV

“Again,” I growled, planting my feet and pivoting hard.

Steel rang as my blade clashed against the royal guard’s.

The courtyard lit with moonlight and the smell of sweat and pine echoed with the sounds of training, metal against metal, boots scuffing stone, breath drawn tight. The royal wolves were fast, strong, and sharpened by years of elite discipline.

But I was faster.

I ducked a swing and drove my shoulder into my opponent’s gut, knocking him back.

Darian barked from the sidelines. “Good form. But don’t admire your work. Follow through!”

I did.

Spinning, I brought the flat of my blade to the guard’s ribs with a solid smack. He grunted and dropped to one knee, acknowledging defeat.

I stepped back, chest heaving.

The other wolves circled me, not with disdain but something close to respect. That still felt strange.

A slow clap echoed across the courtyard.

I turned.

King Maelric leaned against one of the stone pillars, arms crossed, a quiet grin tugging at his mouth.

“You fight like your mother,” he said.

I sheathed my blade and arched an eyebrow. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

He chuckled. “It’s the highest one I’ve got.”

Darian stepped forward, offering me a cloth. I took it, wiping sweat from my brow as the King motioned for me to follow.

“I take it I passed the physical trial?” I asked as we walked along the garden’s stone path.

“With distinction,” he replied. “Now it’s time you learned to use the sharper weapon.”

“What, sarcasm?”

“Politics,” he said with a grin. “Same thing.”

I laughed, but it faded quickly. “You mean alliances. Treaties. Manipulation.”

“Influence,” he corrected. “The court is full of wolves wearing human skins. Knowing how to read them, how to move them—that’s how you rule without lifting a sword.”

I fell silent for a moment, glancing at the high moon glowing above the palace towers.

“You’ll be expected to meet with certain alphas soon. Negotiate. Charm. Command.”

I exhaled. “Let me guess. Including Blackmaw?”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You already saw Rovan in the court.”

“Yeah. I saw the look on his face when I walked in,” I said, voice low. “He looked like a man who just realized he tossed away a crown.”

Maelric chuckled. “He did. Literally.”

“Did you know?” I asked, stopping under a vine-laced archway. “That he was my husband?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“And you still let him kneel in front of you like nothing happened?”

Something warm pulsed deep in my chest.

“Do you feel it?” he asked, his voice now low, reverent.

“Yes.”

The moon overhead—once silver—was shifting.

Bleeding red.

“The blood moon,” I breathed.

He nodded. “It’s time.”

My breath caught as a strange heat swept through me, rising from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. My skin tingled. My wolf, silent for days, suddenly surged forward, howling in my soul.

I fell to one knee.

“Sylra,” Maelric said, stepping back, giving me space. “Let it happen.”

My fingers curled into the soil beneath me as my back arched, pain and fire tearing through every joint. My bones cracked, not breaking, but rebuilding. My vision blurred as fur spilled across my skin, radiant and golden, glowing like sunlight trapped in muscle.

I was struggling with the shift. I figured it was because it was no ordinary shift.

My paws slammed into the earth and gasps echoed from the ramparts above expectantly, waiting to see my transformation. The guards watching dropped to one knee.

A howl sound tore from my chest, rising up through wind and stone, echoing off the mountainside, but I wasn’t shifting.

I glanced up at my Father to see him shaking his head and it hits.

I didn’t shift.