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CHAPTER SIX Summoned by the king

Reika's POV

"I think I'm in love with you," Philips said softly, his affectionate gaze locking onto mine.

The words hit me like a gust of wind, leaving me speechless. My mouth fell open in surprise, as I tried to speak, but no words came. I blinked, trying to grasp his word.

Phillips noticed my stunned moments and quickly added, " You don't have to reply me now or even feel the same. I understand your struggles, but I just wanted to get it out of my mind," he said, his voice almost apologetic.

I nodded, still unable to find the right words. He gave a small understanding smile before walking away.

That night, as I walked home my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Phillips was undeniably a good guy—kind and caring, but love? That is like a fantasy , or perhaps a luxury that I would never have.

The week passed by in a blur, it was awkward between us at first—hesitant glances, small silences and the lingering shadows of the confession but soon we found our rhythm again, the tension faded, finding the familiar sense of friendship.

Two Week Later

"I knew I’d find you here."

The voice was familiar, pulling me away from my thoughts. I blinked up from the sea of flowers stretching out before me, squinting as the sun’s harsh rays stung my eyes.

"Sorry," the voice apologized quickly, and before I could say anything, I felt the warmth of something settle on my head, blocking the blinding light.

When my vision adjusted, I found myself staring into a pair of bright green eyes, shining with excitement and affection.

“Phillip,” I whispered, offering him a small smile as I adjusted the straw hat he had placed on my head.

Phillips exhaled sharply, a nervous chuckle escaping him as his neck flushed a deep red—redder than the roses swaying gently in the breeze. "I didn’t see

you at your house when I stopped by," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, uh… I might’ve followed you here."

I arched a brow but didn’t comment, smoothing the fabric of my dress instead. This field of flowers, with its kaleidoscope of colors and gentle stillness, was the one place in the village where I could breathe. The tranquility of it, the way the breeze played with the flowers, made it impossible to resist. It was close to my cottage, and frankly, I wasn’t surprised he had found me here.

Phillips voice cut through my thoughts. "Here. Take this."

He handed me a brown envelope bag, the edges crinking as I accepted it. Carefully, I opened it my eyes widening at the contents. The scent of freshly baked bread and spiced meat wafted out.

"You didn’t have to—"

"It was my mother," he interrupted, speaking quickly as if rehearsed. "She thought you might not have enough to eat with the ceremony coming up and all. She insisted."

The kindness hitting me in a way I least expected-my mother has never been kind, and yet a total stranger does. I opened my mouth to decline but the words faltered. I swallowed the lumps in my throat and finally muttered. "Tell her thank you."

Phillip perked up instantly. "Or," he said, his voice in a eager tone, "you could thank her in person. My sister, Talia’s fiancé is visiting, so my mom’s cooking up a feast. You should come."

I froze, my fingers gripping the paper bag tighter, my thoughts racing fast. I hadn’t planned to interact with anyone today, certainly not with a group of strangers. But his hopeful expression tugged at something deep within me. "I don't...think so. I've got a lot of things to do."

"Things?" His brows knitted in frown. "What things?"

I forced myself to look at him. "Things at home," I replied, though the excuse felt weak even to my own ears.

Phillips didn't buy it, his teasing smile turning into something more pleading. "Common on. I had promised mom that I’d bring you today. She’ll be disappointed if I show up without you. Don't leave me hanging."

I felt the weight of his gaze, and it was impossible to say no to him. With a sigh, I relented. "Fine. "When are we leaving?"

By the time we reached Philips house, I already felt the familiar tension in my chest. The noise from the large building hit me like a wave—children squealing and chasing each other, men laughing and exchanging jests. It was a cacophony that should've been comforting—people enjoying life— but to me it's a reminder of how I'd felt out of place here, and even in my own family.

"Everyone! I managed to drag Rieka here!" Phillip’s voice boomed across the entrance, and the moment we turned towards the sitting room a flood of eyes turned towards us.

The noise faltered for a moment, and then an older man then a voice broke the silence.

"Phillip, my boy!" a booming voice called out, drawing all eyes to us. A burly man with a booming laugh grinned widely. "Finally brought a young lass home, eh? About time. You and your sister are keeping your mates waiting too long!"

I stiffened, the attention suffocating, as the men were scanning me as if appraising a item.

"Not like that, Uncle Jacob," Phillip said quickly, his face flushing as he waved off the comment. "She is Grandma's friend— works at the bakery and Mom invited her over."

I took the opportunity to bow my head politely, forcing a smile. "Good day, sirs."

Their eyes lingered on me, murmurs about my appearance and how rare it was to see "a beautiful young woman like her" rippling through the group. The weight of their stares made my skin crawl, but I held my ground.

I was about to pull away when Phillips noticed my discomfort, and said. "Father, we’ll be heading to the kitchen now."

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed my wrist gently and guided me through another door.

Once we were out of earshot, he let go, looking guilty. "Sorry about that. My uncles can be… a lot."

"It’s fine," I said, though the tension in my shoulders lingered.

Phillip sighed in relief, his demeanor brightening again. "Come on, my mom’s probably in the kitchen with my sister. Grandma’s out in the garden if you want to visit her later."

"I’ll thank your mom first," I replied. He grinned and led me toward the large room at the end of the hall, the smell of hearty soup and baking bread growing stronger with each step.

"Mum! We’re back!" he called as we entered the bustling kitchen.

A blonde-haired woman turned from the large pot she was tending, her face lighting up when she saw us. She wiped her hands on a towel pinned to her apron and walked toward us, her smile warm and inviting.

"My stupid son finally did something right," she teased, ruffling Phillip’s hair before turning to me. Her green eyes sparkled as she reached out to pinch my cheeks lightly, her touch warm and tender. "How are you, dear?"

"I’m fine," I replied, though my voice wavered slightly. Something about her warmth—her effortless kindness—sent a sharp ache through my chest. For a fleeting moment, I resented my own mother. Her motherly love reminded me of the love I had once longed for and had never received from my own mother.

"Did Phillip deliver what I sent?" she asked, clasping my hands.

"Mum!" Phillip protested. "Of course I did!"

"Quiet, boy. Let the lady speak," she scolded, swatting him lightly.

I stifled a laugh as Phillip mimed zipping his lips.

Before I could answer, the air was pierced by a sharp squeal, followed by a scream and the unmistakable sound of something heavy crashing to the floor.

We all froze.

Phillip’s mother’s face paled as she turned toward the noise, her smile replaced by worry.

"Stay here," she said firmly, but I was already moving. My feet carried me toward the commotion, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Something was wrong. I could feel it.

When I reached the doorway to the hall, my breath hitched.

Standing in the middle of the chaos were figures cloaked in darkness.

And they were looking straight at me. I took a hesitant step closer, my entire body trembling in fear.

One of the men stepped forward , his movements deliberate and calm. He bowed slightly, his piercing gaze locked into mine and then in a voice that sent chills down my spine he said, "You are being summoned by the werewolf king."

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