The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 98

Chapter 98 – Castle Gates and Hidden Glances

Nevara

The courtyard buzzed with activity as sleek black cars and SUV’s rolled through the main gates one after another. Snow crunched beneath boots and wheels, the low hum of conversation blending with the flutter of winter coats. The royal banner above the castle swayed proudly, catching the attention of nearly every noble who stepped onto the cobbled

stones.

Thoren stood tall at my side, his posture the perfect balance of regal authority and quiet menace. One glance from him had the guards straightening, the staff hustling, and the nobles adjusting their tones from condescension to cautious flattery.

I kept my smile even as my cheeks ached, offering polite nods and short greetings.

“Welcome to Blackmane Castle,” I said for what felt like the twentieth time, stepping forward as a silver-haired matron stepped out of her car, flanked by two sons who looked more like warriors than heirs. “The staff will escort you to your rooms-please, let us know if there’s

anything you require.”

The woman bowed her head. “The honor is ours, future queen.”

I caught Thoren’s glance then, the soft pride in his eyes warming the chill that had settled deep in my bones since the whole Bethany ordeal.

We continued down the line, moving from one arrival to the next, trading greetings and reading the unspoken games behind their smiles. Power moved through this crowd like a slow wave, rippling beneath velvet and silk, masked by practiced civility.

Behind me, Sabrina kept pace, tablet in hand, noting the names and room assignments of each arriving dignitary. She murmured softly to the attending maids, ensuring luggage followed each guest like a shadow.

We were halfway through the courtyard when I caught the glint of something odd-a man standing near the edge of the crowd, not stepping forward, not offering a name.

He was young, mid-thirties maybe-which if he was a Lycan meant that he was probably actually in his sixties-with rich brown skin and eyes like dark honey. Dressed in simple but tailored clothing, he didn’t look like royalty. But he moved like he could be. Or should be.

Before I could ask Thoren, Sabrina leaned in. “Unscheduled guest,” she whispered. “He gave

the name Reddick. No house listed.”

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Thoren’s jaw flexed. “Keep an eye on him.”

Sabrina nodded once and drifted off to relay the order.

I turned toward Thoren. “Think he’s here for the party or something else?”

He stared at Reddick for a long moment. “Let’s find out soon.”

Thoren’s eyes lingered on the man Sabrina had named Reddick, but I’d already moved on- because something else had just caught my attention.

Near the edge of the courtyard, behind the statue-lined colonnade, a woman in muted plum and charcoal slinked along the outer wall like a shadow trying not to be seen.

Bethany.

She was clearly trying not to draw attention-but she’d forgotten that she was in my house

now. And she wasn’t as invisible as she wanted to be.

I leaned closer to Thoren and murmured, “Bethany’s here. Creeping around like a damn

raccoon.”

He turned his head just slightly, jaw tightening. “Michelle swore she’d keep her out of the engagement party.”

“Yeah, well, promises are easy. I don’t trust her not to try something.”

Thoren didn’t answer right away, but I saw the flicker of irritation in his eyes. Not fear-never that-but frustration. He was sick of playing defense against ghosts from his past.

“You need to deal with it,” I said, keeping my tone even. “Before she causes a scene and we end up in another scandal.”

And as if fate couldn’t resist driving the point home, a small ball came bouncing across the stone walkway-bright red and jarringly out of place.

A gasp rippled through the gathered crowd just as a small boy chased after it, darting between noble robes and polished boots like a fox through brush.

Jonas.

Thoren moved like lightning-his hand snatching the ball mid-bounce, the other gently stopping the boy before he could crash into a duchess’s embroidered train.

Jonas blinked up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, “Sorry, It got away.”

“Careful,” Thoren said, calm and collected. “This is not a playground.”

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He placed a steady hand on the boy’s shoulder and guided him quietly out of the crowd, cutting across the back corridor with almost no one noticing.

Except me. And Reddick.

I saw him watching-curious, calculating-as Thoren returned Jonas to Bethany’s side, speaking low enough that I couldn’t hear, but stern enough that Bethany’s face flushed red. She tried to argue, hand fluttering in protest, but Thoren cut her off with a single point of his finger-straight back toward her assigned quarters.

Bethany looked like she wanted to scream, but instead she turned sharply and left, dragging Jonas with her.

I exhaled.

“Handled,” I muttered under my

breath.

But I didn’t miss the way Reddick tilted his head, as if filing away the entire exchange.

Yeah. I’d be keeping my eyes on both of them.

Just as I turned to rejoin the receiving line, Sabrina appeared at my elbow with a smile that was both polite and urgent.

“Your Majesty,” she said in a low voice, “your presence is no longer required down here. The stylists are already setting up in your suite.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Stylists?”

She nodded. “Hair and makeup. They arrived early. Apparently, one of them used to do celebrity weddings in Europe.”

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