Mated To The Barbarian King Who Is My Ex-husband's Father.

The day was shaping up to be a difficult one for the royal family. Kane had left for an emergency meeting with the pack council, and from what Eira had explained, they were going to discuss Arianna occupying the position of the Queen.

​"The council advises and assists the King in governing the entire North. They respect his decisions, but he must also treat their counsel with respect," Eira explained.

​Arianna wasn’t surprised. Back in her own homeland, she already knew what it was like to have such politicians around. "Kane was very disturbed. I could tell from his expression that what happened earlier thoroughly annoyed him."

​"This is an incredibly serious matter, my lady," Maria said, carrying a heavy wooden box of jewelry over to the princess. "I honestly don’t know what to believe anymore."

​"I believe Kane," Arianna answered, moving back to stand in front of the mirror.

​"But that man came after you even when everyone was standing right there," Maria pressed. "It seems so clear that he was the culprit."

​"I believe Kane, Maria. If he says there is more to this than meets the eye, then it is the truth," Arianna said, firmly supporting her husband’s judgment.

She selected a pair of polished purple bangles and slipped them onto her wrists, glancing at her reflection.

They looked absolutely stunning on her skin, yet the dark bruises the assassin had left on her neck still served as a brutal reminder that she was not wanted here.

​Her small smile faded, and she turned back to her handmaidens. "If Ulric wasn’t the real attacker, then it means whoever actually wants to harm me is still running free. Only the gods know when they will decide to strike again."

​"I reject that on your behalf!" Eira cried softly, kissing her own knuckles to ward off the bad omen. "No one will harm you from this day on. The King will make sure of it."

​"I hope so," Arianna breathed, exhaling a slow, tense sigh.

​"The King has already increased your security," Eira informed her. "You now have at least six personal guards surrounding you when you walk within the camp and twenty watching over you when you step outside."

​Arianna was pleased with how deeply the King cared for her safety. However, she knew she couldn’t rely solely on others; she had to learn how to protect herself from these barbarian wolves, who might attack when she least expected it.

Back home, she was highly skilled with swords, spears, and knives, but her human fighting techniques were useless against the raw strength of werewolves.

She would need to ask the King for permission to train specifically against their kind.

​Their conversation was interrupted when one of the female sentries stepped inside, announcing the arrival of the priest. He had arrived right at noon, exactly as Kane had predicted.

​Arianna sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for him to enter. It was the very same blind, old priest who had officiated their wedding ceremony.

He was still wearing his pristine white robes with a matching heavy cloak. Walking beside him was a young boy of about five years old, on whose shoulders the old priest rested his hand as a guide.

​"Welcome, Wise One," Eira greeted quickly, bowing her head. Maria did the same and both handmaidens stepped aside to allow him room to pass.

​"Welcome, Priest," Arianna found herself saying.

​"Look at that, I am here once again to heal you," the old priest chuckled softly, navigating his way closer to her. "It seems you have gotten yourself into trouble with the wrong people this time."

​Her brows furrowed in confusion, wondering exactly what he meant by that. From the way he spoke, it was obvious he knew something and she was entirely willing to press him until he voiced it.

​"I didn’t do anything wrong to them," Arianna said with a shrug. "They came after me without any warning."

​"Oh, but this is their warning," he chuckled again. He reached into his satchel, pulling out some green herbs and handing them to Eira. "Go and prepare this for the Queen."

​Eira bowed before quickly slipping out of the tent. When the old priest sensed that Maria still remained in the room, he paused, as if wondering what excuse he could use to send her away next.

​Arianna knew exactly what he wanted. She probably should have been terrified to be left entirely alone with a man she barely knew, yet she found herself saying, "Get some fresh water for me, Maria. The water in this jug has overstayed."

​"As you wish, my lady," Maria bowed. She walked over to the table, picked up the ceramic jug and left the tent to refill it.

​"Everyone is gone and we are left alone, Wise One," Arianna said, her gaze locking onto him. "Can you speak clearly now?"

​Near the entrance, his young guide stood silently, keeping a watchful eye out for anyone who might approach the tent.

​"Many have come before you. They should have survived but they didn’t," the old man began. He paused to let out a dry cough before continuing. "What makes you think you will be any different?"

​She swallowed hard, trying desperately to keep her composure. The heavy weight of his question was starting to get to her. "I will survive because I won’t make the same mistakes they did."

​"You think they knew they were making mistakes, little one?" He laughed softly, tilting his head as if she had just said something incredibly naive.

​Arianna didn’t know how to respond. Perhaps she had misread his words entirely. The old man might not even be referring to the women who had come before her and Kane. He could be speaking of something else entirely.

​"You should stop speaking in riddles. I am a bit confused."

​"If I were in your position, I would be too," the old man said, stepping closer to her. "Turn your head to the left so I can see your wounds clearly."

​She turned her head to the left, allowing him access. However, she refused to let the conversation drop. "I need your help. I know for a fact that you can help me understand what truly happened to me last night... who is responsible for this and why? What did I ever do wrong to them?"

​"This wasn’t caused by a single person, Princess," the old man murmured, pressing his cold, thin fingers against the bruised skin of her neck.

​As soon as his fingertips made contact, Arianna felt a strange, intense heat spreading across her throat like wildfire.

​"They want you gone for two very specific reasons," the priest whispered. "Although... not all of them are aware of the second one."

​"What are those reasons?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

​"The first is simple...you are human and they believe you are unworthy of being their Queen," he told her flatly. "The other reason—the more important one—is what you will become if you stay here for too long. Just as you think they are a threat to you, they also believe you are a threat to them."

​Arianna understood the first reason well enough, but the second? Her mind went entirely blank. She was nothing more than a foreign princess who had been sent here to be married to their King.

​"I don’t really understand the second reason, Wise One," she chuckled sadly, her fingers gripping the bedsheets. "How could I possibly be a threat to them?"

​The old man stepped back, withdrawing his hand. "It is done. You have been completely healed. No marks and no pain."

​Arianna quickly rubbed her neck. To her amazement, he was entirely right. The skin was smooth, and the throbbing ache was completely gone. However, he had still bypassed her question. "I am incredibly grateful for this, but you have to tell me why are they so afraid of me?"

​The old priest stared in her direction, his sightless eyes filled with a heavy mixture of pity and disappointment.

​"Because," he whispered, "you are the white witch they warned about in the ancient barbarian poems."

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