Chapter 4 Her Deterrence

Dread filled both Caroline and Jordan’s faces when Fernanda made her declaration.

“Fernanda! How dare you speak against your King!” Jordan thundered, his voice echoing in the grand hall.

“He is not my king, and he certainly wouldn’t be my husband either!” Fernanda shot back, her voice sharp and unwavering. A ripple of gasps spread among the servants.

Sebastian’s warriors instinctively reached for their swords, their polished steel catching the candlelight. The tension in the room tightened like a bowstring, but a small, calculated gesture from Commander Levi stopped them. Levi’s eyes flicked briefly toward Sebastian, who gave the barest of nods, a silent order to hold their ground.

“I’m tired of being a pawn for you and your wife, Father,” Fernanda’s voice rose, the tremor of anger shaking it. “You dictate every step I take, never caring what I want. As long as you and Caroline are satisfied, my own life means nothing!” Her tears had begun to slip freely now, each one carrying years of pent-up pain.

“How dare you!” Jordan’s face turned crimson as he stepped forward, his hand raised high and ready to strike.

But before the slap could land, the air shifted. A deep, commanding voice cut through the space like a blade.

“Touch her, and you will regret it.”

Fernanda opened her eyes to see Sebastian standing between her and her father. He had not raised a weapon, yet the sheer force of his presence made Jordan freeze mid-motion. The Lycan king’s gaze was cold, unblinking and far more dangerous than any blade.

Caroline’s sharp gasp broke the stillness, joined by hushed murmurs from the servants, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Sebastian stepped closer to Jordan, not with the quickness of a threat, but with the slow certainty of a man who knows the power he holds. “I have been patient with your household tonight,” he said, his voice deep and deliberate. “But i see now, that you have mistake my patience for weakness.”

Jordan faltered under Sebastian's glare, but Sebastian did not break eye contact. “You will agree to this betrothal,” he continued, his words cold, “and your family will remain in my good graces. Refuse… and you will learn what it means to be on my bad side. ”

Fernanda could hear her heart pounding loudly in her ears. His tone held no raised volume, yet it seemed to press against her chest, making it hard to breathe. This wasn’t a request, it was a sentence.

Sebastian turned his gaze on her now, and it felt as though the room tilted. “You comply, and your father walks away with his dignity. You refuse, and I will strip him of every privilege he owns. His titles, his wealth, his name, will all be gone.”

Fernanda's head spun. Ever since her mother died, choice had been a luxury stolen from her. And now, the one time she was given an option, it was between her freedom and her father’s ruin.

She dropped her eyes, trying to steady herself, but her heart raced painfully in her chest. Caroline stepped forward suddenly, voice trembling. “She agrees! She agrees to be your wife, Your Highness. Please… spare us any further shame.”

Sebastian’s head turned slowly toward her, and his voice dropped into something low and sharp. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

Caroline’s mouth closed immediately, her hands twisting nervously in her gown.

Fernanda’s thoughts clashed violently in her mind. "Don’t let your pride cost your father everything!" her conscience screamed. But another part of her pushed back, "Why must your happiness be the price for everyone else’s comfort?"

Sebastian’s eyes bored into hers. “Your decision. Now.”

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Caroline’s voice broke it, desperate. “Think of your father, Fernanda. he is your blood!”

Her father stared at her, pride swallowed by the reality that Sebastian’s words were no idle threat. His breathing was still uneven, not from harm but from the sheer weight of the moment.

Finally, Fernanda spoke, her voice cracking under the strain. “I… I will marry you. I will become your wife. Just… leave my father with what he has left.”

“Wise choice,” Sebastian said without warmth.

He turned to his men without another glance at Jordan. “Escort my betrothed to her carriage. We are leaving.”

The warriors moved with precision, lifting Fernanda gently but firmly to her feet. She was still trembling, her eyes downcast as tears clung stubbornly to her lashes.

“What of her parents, Your Majesty?” Anderson, Sebastian’s advisor, asked cautiously. “They should be present for the wedding.”

“Send an invitation,” Sebastian replied, fastening his armor once more. “Tell them I marry their daughter by dusk tomorrow.”

Anderson hesitated, his gaze flicking toward Jordan, but quickly looked away. He remembered too well what had sparked this confrontation in the first place , greed. And though Sebastian could be ruthless, there was an undeniable logic to his judgment.

The Lycan king ruled with an iron will, but he was not without a sense of order. His methods could be cold, yet they kept his kingdom the strongest among the four great Lycanthrope strongholds.

Four mounted guards formed a protective square around Fernanda’s carriage. Sebastian himself checked her security before mounting his horse, Anderson and Commander Levi at his side.

A silent command passed from Sebastian to Levi, and the soldiers began their departure toward the palace.

Inside the carriage, Fernanda sat rigid, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The tears had stopped, but fear still gnawed at her ribs. Fear of what lay ahead. Fear of the man she was now bound to marry.

She stared out at the moonlit road, the hooves striking the earth in steady rhythm. I can’t stay here. I have to escape.

Her chest rose and fell quickly, her breath catching in her throat. "I’d rather die free than live as Sebastian Kozlov’s wife. I have to figure something out!"

The thought burned in her mind, fierce and unyielding, even as the palace drew nearer with every passing moment.