The Royal Mansion screamed massive elegance.
It was larger and bigger than anything Harlow had ever been into. And despite growing up in luxury, many sights still amazed her.
From the magical interiors to the exterior, everything was perfect. Countless expensive pendant lights and chandeliers suspended down the high ceilings while sconce lamps plus antiques were attached to every wall.
Beauty.
Where some wealth finished was where another one started.
"You must be enjoying what you see," Lyra cooed beside Harlow, but her mind was somewhere else, lost in the beauty of the sun rays that still crawled through the glass panels at the hallway's extreme end.
"I must say... I'm in awe," she uttered, impressed. "But how didn't I notice this fascination the first time?"
Glad she remembered what happened. How she had lost unconsciousness in the arms of her mate.
Lyra giggled. "Once you're settled, there are many other places to excite your mood."
"I appreciate it." Harlow acknowledged, but as they climbed down the left wing of the double staircase, she couldn't help but wonder why the mansion was... empty.
Yeah.
If not for the workers and the guards, or Lyra or Zeke, the mansion would have been a ghost town. And this was unlike hers at GoldenBlood.
Alpha Hayes had accommodated lots of families – the Elders', Raydes, etc, and he built a few houses around the mansion for the homeless.
"Did you grow up here?" Harlow inquired, her voice mixed with intense curiosity when they got outside.
Lyra flashed a coy smile. "Yeah. This place was my playground."
"Your parents should be here then," she asked out of sheer innocence.
"No, they live in town."
Harlow's brow furrowed, "I don't understand. Why aren't they living here with you?"
"Because they have a house," Lyra sneered, "Besides, Kai needed to be around his age mate, so my parents plus Zeke's thought staying here would help him a lot."
Harlow's heart skipped for a fraction of a second. "Help Kai? What happened?"
"Well, he didn't have a normal childhood like everyone else." Harlow activated listening ears. "He lost his dad when he was 10 and the burden of leading millions has been on him since then."
"Are you serious? Kai became a King at 10?" Harlow gasped.
"It wasn't documented, but that's the truth. He was homeschooled. No friends. Just Zeke and I."
Harlow felt sympathy for Kai, and felt terrible for judging his book by his cover. She had always thought that Kai chose to be cold because he was indeed a monster...
Devastating.
It never occurred to her that he had inner demons that were taking a toll on him. So unfair, because no child would go through such an abnormal burden and remain sane.
"Thank you for being there for him every time," Harlow appreciated her, and Lyra's round face brightened.
The duo continued to stroll, passing tall metallic doors and long mirrors framed in gold. Occasionally, Lyra gestured at places, pointing out ballrooms, war rooms, and the council offices.
~~~
"This wing holds the Royal lineage," Lyra mouthed as they entered the mansion and veered into a narrow corridor that was after the foyer.
Getting there, Harlow marveled at the dozens of portraits in raw golden frames that were before her.
Paintings of the past Lycan Kings lined the hallway, some were fierce and some were nobles. Harlow approached the rows of frames and surveyed them.
The men, with brawny broad shoulders and the silver hue in their eyes, stood tall in their regalia. Beside them were women who had matching regalia on.
The Kings' Lunas, obviously.
Each of them looked graceful and gorgeous with perfect eyebrows, pointed nose, curvy lips, e.t.c.
There was no doubt that Kai was from this lineage. He embodied all the great physical attributes of his ancestors. A better version of them in appearance.
Harlow proceeded to appraise the next one. Then the next until she got to one which made her feet falter a bit.
It was a large canvas, showing a younger King Kai beside an older man. It had to be his father. Same cold blue eyes, sharp, chiseled jaw. The date of his reign, which was designed at the bottom of the portrait confirmed it.
Then her eyes traveled to the woman standing beside the older King. Unlike the other portraits where the couples were just sitting with their hands placed over each other, this woman had her arms intertwined with the King.
One could feel the love eliciting from this portrait. But something wasn't right.
It wasn't because she wasn't wearing a regalia like the others; she was in a plain white gown.
It was because of her face.
Her entire face was blurred. It didn't look like it had aged or faded with time. It was just wrong. Very wrong, as though someone had smudged the paint while it was still wet and was trying to wipe her away.
Harlow whipped her eyes around the rest of the portraits again. No other one looked like this. Every other Queen's eyes shone, their expression proud and firm.
But the woman here?
She looked like a ghost lost in the canvas.
Without warning, a stinging pain stabbed behind Harlow's eyes, causing her to lean on the wall. Her vision abruptly faded. Heat crawled up her neck and then it hit–
"Help me. Don't be like me!" a voice rang. She clutched her brain. "Fire! Save my son!" the voice clanged again, followed by the tears of a child.
All these in her head.
Harlow saw a hallway like this one. Darker. And a vision of her painting a wall with blood.
When she regained consciousness, her breath caught and she gasped.
"Are you okay?" Lyra asked, turning just in time to see Harlow blinking and bending on her haunches.
The moment vanished.
Harlow's headache subsided as she straightened up, forcing her heart to beat normally.
"Who's she?" was her first question.
Lyra dithered for seconds, realizing she had fucked up. Harlow wasn't meant to see this portrait and she inwardly blamed herself for forgetting that.
Or perhaps she didn't forget. She just wanted to make things complicated for Kai. Get back at him for not giving her attention like he used to.
"No one important. The portrait is old. Some of the paint must have worn off," she replied with a shrug, brushing it off like dust. "C'mon, let me show you the helipad."
Harlow rooted on the spot.
"She's definitely a Queen like the rest. That's a crown on her head. Why is she unimportant?" She paused, "Isn't she Kai's mum?"
Lyra's smile disappeared. "Don't overthink this, Harlow. My tongue must have slipped when I mentioned that."
Before Harlow could press further, a young maid rushed toward them. "Miss Co-ordinator," the girl called Lyra, "the head chef needs you immediately. It's about the delivery."
Lyra sighed and dismissed the maid after telling her she was coming. "Stay here, Harlow. Don't wander. This place is somewhat..." she squinted her eyeballs, trying to find the perfect word, "...confusing."
~~~
Confusing?
Lyra must think she was a child, wasn't she?
As she stomped away, Harlow focused on the portrait for the umpteenth time, and each time, a dose of curiosity and fear filled her up.
The feeling felt deeply wrong that it felt so strange,
Suddenly, a pull gripped her.
That pull that hooked her whenever Kai was around or near. But this was different.
Very different.
It started from her ribs; a mysterious, slow pain that spread like a wildfire, and her wolf whimpered low as a force propelled her feet forward.
One, two, three...
Just a few steps she had taken, and she found herself standing in front a heavy, metallic door that was slightly ajar.
The scent of paint and old wood gushed into her nostrils, and a cough rumbled from her chest.
As she pushed the door wider, her fingers quaked as though she was doing something wrong. She entered, anyway.
The room was spacious with the rays of soft sunlight spilling from tall windows. An ergonomic chair lay in the center, beside an easel.
Art supplies and tools were scattered across the room — brushes, canvases, jars of paint, and sketches tacked messily on the wall.
Harlow's heart bubbled with joy, staring at the almost-completed canvases.
The paintings of landscapes. Werewolves in the middle of transformation. Beautiful Lycan eyes...
Suddenly, her wolf surged forward.
Something was calling to her. No, it was pulling her again like magnets on a magnetic field.
Her wolf recognized it.
It was a painting. One that stood alone in a corner and had white cloth draped over its massive frame.
Her heart thudded with several beats as she quickened to the painting. "What is this?" she mumbled under her breath, her fingers hovering just beneath the cloth.
Something inside her screamed not to look. But something louder whispered, "You need to! Check it! See it!"
She reached out.
Gradually, in a cool motion, she lowered her spine and traced the hem of the cloth. She was going to reveal the canvas, but just before she could...
"Kai wouldn't like that," a deep voice warned, and she spun around, her pulse leaping in apprehension.