The Lycan King's Secret Daughter novel Chapter 21

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Caelan asked, fastening the last strap on his gear. His voice was light, but his eyes didn’t miss a thing, not the tremor in my breath, not the way I kept adjusting the dagger at my hip even though it was already secure.

I tilted my head, a smirk teasing the corner of my mouth. “You mean the diplomatic hunt or the possibility of outpacing you in front of half the Summit?”

“Oh, I fully expect you to try,” he said, tossing me a wink. “But it’s cute that you think you’ll succeed.”

We walked side by side into the trees, the thrum of movement behind us humming like a heartbeat. The clearing was still alive with sound—shouts of commanders, the chatter of diplomats, armor clinking, wolves shifting and stretching.

The Summit Hunt wasn’t just ceremonial anymore. It had become something else this year. A show of strength. Of alliances. Of loyalty to the royal bloodline.

To me.

Leaders from every major pack had gathered, eyes constantly tracking me, measuring me. Every step I took was both proof and test.

Caelan adjusted the blade strapped at his hip, his eyes flicking toward me in that way they always did when he was trying to read beneath the surface. “Still haven’t answered me.”

I arched a brow. “Answered what?”

He raised one of his own. “You know what.”

And I did.

He was referring to what he’d said days ago—how he’d told me he was interested in me, not as a political ally or a figurehead, but as me. As Sylra. And I hadn’t responded.

Not because I didn’t care.

Not because I didn’t feel something stir inside me every time he got too close, or looked at me like I was made of stars and rage and reasons to believe.

But because there were still parts of me I hadn’t claimed yet. Pieces that had belonged to someone else. Pieces I was still pulling back.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I said softly.

He gave a small smile, no pressure in it. “I told you I’d wait.”

“Forever?”

“Don’t push it.”

I laughed, shaking my head. It was the kind of laugh I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time, one that didn’t feel like it had to be hidden behind armor.

The woods grew thicker the further we moved. The terrain shifted subtly beneath our boots, roots twisted under the moss, and the scent of the earth grew stronger. Wolves fanned out into designated hunting groups behind us, their tracks marked and mapped.

I stepped ahead, scanning the ridge. My role today wasn’t just symbolic—I was leading the Hunt, just as the Lycan heir should.

Caelan stepped beside me, gaze fixed ahead. “You know, when you become Queen…”

“When?” I echoed, glancing sideways.

He nodded once. “When.”

I gave him a mock skeptical look.

“…You could do worse than naming me your Beta.”

I barked a laugh. “Oh? Is this your pitch now?”

“I bring loyalty, sarcasm, and a very firm sword arm.”

“And the ability to take a punch from a jealous ex.”

He gave a dramatic bow. “An underrated skill in court politics.”

Shit.

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