Stolen by the Beastly Lycan King-Chapter 148: Now Everything Made Sense

"Do you think this is wise? She has been asleep for two days now. It might have been better to let her body rest peacefully."

Naveen shot Rhaegar a somewhat scolding look, but the king met it with a calm, expressionless response.

"It is better to move while she is asleep. Besides, there is no doubt the Crown Prince will send new forces in pursuit. The sooner we put distance between ourselves and the border, the better."

The witch frowned but ultimately decided to let the matter go. Rhaegar was stubborn, and though his concern for his wife’s well-being sometimes bordered on unreasonable, she had to admit he had a point.

Even though the two of them were now married––a strong political move aimed to protect Lorelai’s current circumstances, lingering near the borders of Erelith was a dangerous gamble, and losing time could cost them dearly.

Lorelai had fallen asleep at the break of dawn, her body succumbing to exhaustion after the mating ceremony with Rhaegar had concluded. She had already slept soundly for two days, not stirring even to eat or drink.

Although mildly concerned, Naveen had anticipated this.

The former princess’s fragile human body was no match for the intensity of a beast king’s mating ritual. If Lorelai had shared Rhaegar’s beastly nature, the process would have had little effect on her. But as a mere human, all they could do was wait patiently for her body to recover and awaken naturally.

Rhaegar’s amber eyes softened as he gently stroked his wife’s blonde, wavy hair. Turning his gaze to the right, he watched the scenery outside the carriage shift rapidly as they moved through seemingly never-ending meadows.

The endless meadows stretched far into the horizon, bathed in the golden light of the sun. Although quiet and serene, something rather foreboding lingered heavily in the air and the king couldn’t help but acknowledge the slight contraction of anxiety bothering his restless heart.

In the distance, the gilded spikes of the royal castle came into view, rising proudly against the afternoon sky. Soon, it would be Lorelai’s home, a place where she would reign as his queen.

Suddenly, all the carriages and caravans screeched to a halt, the large black stallions huffing and pawing at the ground as the coachmen yanked hard on their reins.

The disruption came from the scouting envoys returning from the southern direction, their horses galloping at full speed toward the convoy.

"Naveen, hold Lorelai close," Rhaegar said as he carefully handed the witch his wife’s sleeping body. "Stay here until further instructions."

Without another word, he exited the carriage, a deep frown of concern etched onto his tanned face.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice sharp and commanding as one of the scouts leapt off his still-moving horse and started marching toward the king.

"Someone is approaching—a small army of men headed from the border," the scout replied, his yellow eyes narrowing. He pointed southward, toward the horizon. "No flag or other identification, but judging by their armor and weapons, they must be human mercenaries. Most likely hired by the Crown Prince."

Mercenaries? Rhaegar’s frown deepened, his sharp mind immediately analyzing the situation.

That’s unexpected. I thought the Crown Prince would attack our kingdom directly to reclaim Lorelai... Seems he has decided against sparking an outright war while he waits to ascend the throne. Rather short-sighted of him.

But mercenaries? Why? He must know they are no match for us before we reach the capital. Is he trying to buy some time instead?

Rhaegar let out a slow, measured exhale, forcing himself to relax his tense muscles. "They have come to ambush us again, no doubt." His tone was cold, calculating, and evidently restless.

He straightened his posture, his amber eyes blazing with unease. "Alim!"

He gestured for his aide to step forward, and Alim appeared by his side almost immediately.

"Relocate Lorelai to one of the caravans carrying clothing. Tell Naveen to cast a shielding spell over it to protect her from any possible harm. I don’t want to divide our forces to create a diversion while the caravan is moving toward the capital—they have likely anticipated such a move. And I refuse to leave Lorelai unprotected, no matter the risk."

Alim nodded silently, disappearing to carry out the orders. As he left, one of the scouts addressed the king once more.

"King Rhaegar, do we simply wait for them to approach and kill them all? Shall I ready the warriors?"

Rhaegar was about to nod in agreement when, without warning, every sense in his body heightened with an alarming intensity. An invisible, yet unmistakable force washed over him, sending a warning jolt through his very core.

His amber eyes widened, and his right hand instinctively flew to his sword.

"There is no way...!"

Gian, who had stepped closer to consult on the strategy, froze mid-step. His gaze fell to Rhaegar’s trembling weapon, his own orange eyes widening in shock.

The king’s insides churned, mirroring the tremor of the sword in his grasp. It was the same ominous sensation he had felt back at the gladiator arena, the moment he realized the beast slave he was about to fight possessed the King’s Gold.

But this time, the reaction was far stronger—magnified a hundredfold—as if he were surrounded by countless weapons once wielded by the kings of the past.

So I was right all along, he thought, tightening his grip on the hilt of his blade. But who did she send, then?

"Long live the King of the Beasts!"

The loud exclamation shattered the tense silence, causing everyone to flinch. Rhaegar’s face froze as realization dawned, and a familiar scent wafted to his keen sense of smell, unmistakable and overwhelming.

Slowly, he turned around, his right hand trembling as he fought to suppress the violent reaction of his sword.

Tall, muscular form. Long, black, flowing hair––untamed and left to the mercy of the elegant movements of the summer wind. Sharp brown eyes that turned almost black in the face of dangerous excitement. Red and gold jacket worn on a naked torso.

It was him.

Now, at last, everything made sense.