The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter Chapter 22: The Weight of the Crown

Zane~

The mont I shut the guest room door behind , I leaned my head against the cold wood, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The image of Natalie and Alexander curled up together lingered in my mind, a weave of emotions I couldn’t quite untangle. Protectiveness? Worry? Sothing else entirely? I shook my head and pushed off the door. There was no ti to unravel feelings. Not tonight.

I walked to my room, the long halls of the mansion completely quiet at this hour. My wing was on the opposite side, isolated for reasons I sotis resented. I reached my room and shut the door behind . Darkness greeted , but it wasn’t unwelco. It was a delay to the punishnts the daylight brought.

After shrugging off my jacket and boots, I climbed into bed. The soft sheets were a mockery of the harsh reality I lived in every day, but I let them envelop . As I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts flitted between Natalie’s face and the millions of problems that needed my attention.

Just as I started to drift off to sleep, the familiar pull of my mind link snapped awake. My father’s voice, sharp and authoritative, echoed in my mind.

"Zane."

I groaned inwardly, rolling over to glance at the clock. The red digits glared back at : 4:42 a.m. Of course, it couldn’t wait until morning.

"Yes, Father," I replied, my voice steady despite the irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

"Any new leads on the Celestial Heir?"

I hesitated. The weight of his question was one I’d been carrying for years. "No, Father. Not yet."

A sigh, heavy and full of exhaustion and disappointnt, resonated through the link. "Zane, you must understand the urgency of this. I was ant to retire a century ago. Do you know how tired I am after ruling for two hundred years?"

The sharp edge to his words softened, replaced by sothing almost... vulnerable. "My father, your grandfather, is out there sowhere, enjoying his retirent with his mate. And here I am, still warming the throne for you."

Guilt stabbed at , but I didn’t respond. What could I say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse?

"Zane," he continued, his tone harder now, "if you don’t find her soon, no one will take you seriously when you ascend the throne. Nathan is already waiting for an opportunity to challenge or kill you, and even if you escape, Alexander won’t be so lucky. Do you understand the stakes?"

My jaw tightened. Of course, I understood. Nathan, my uncle, was a constant shadow, waiting to pounce on any weakness. If he found the Celestial Heir before I did, I’d lose everything—my crown, my legacy, my son’s future.

"Broaden your search," my father ordered. "Check the minor royal families. She might have been born into one of them. Don’t let Nathan find her first. If he does, you’ll have no choice but to forfeit the throne to him. And even if you’re crowned king without her, if Nathan finds her later, he’ll dethrone you instantly."

I clenched my fists, the sheets twisting beneath my grip. His words were a familiar mantra, one I’d heard countless tis before.

"I’m giving you four years, Zane," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "Find her, or you’ll take the throne without her and bear the consequences on your own."

"I’m doing everything in my power," I replied, the promise heavy on my tongue.

Silence stretched between us, and then the link severed.

I let out a shaky breath, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. My relationship with my father had always been a battlefield of commands and obedience. There was no warmth, no connection beyond duty. Finding my mate, Emma had been the greatest disappointnt of his life. She wasn’t the Celestial Princess he’d hoped for, just an insignificant Oga, as he’d called her.

And now, with Emma gone, his pressure to find the prophesied heir had intensified. But what my father didn’t know—what I hadn’t told anyone—was that I was dead inside. Even if I found this princess, even if she beca my queen, I would never be able to love her, never be able to even touch her, intimately. That part of was long gone.

Still, I would do as he commanded. Not for love. Not for the throne. But to ensure my son would never have to fight these bloody battles.

Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I dialed a number I knew by heart. The line rang twice before a smooth, familiar voice answered.

"Zane," Sebastian drawled, amusent lacing his tone. "What a pleasant surprise at this ungodly hour."

"How’s the search going?" I asked, skipping pleasantries.

There was a pause, and then his tone turned serious. "I’ve got a lead."

My heart stuttered. "A lead? What kind of lead?"

"It’s too important to discuss over the phone," he replied. "I’ll co to your place in the morning."

"Sebastian," I pressed, my patience fraying, "just tell now."

"No can do, Your Highness," he said, the title dripping with mockery. "I’ll see you at dawn."

Before I could argue further, he hung up.

I stared at the phone, frustration gnawing at . Sebastian had always been infuriatingly cryptic, but he was reliable. My mind drifted back to the day I t him, thirteen years ago, barely a month after my thirteenth birthday.

I’d just experienced my first shift, a mont of pride overshadowed by my father’s cold commands. He commanded Charlie and Nora to send away for five years of grueling training, a period designed to break down and rebuild into a king. Charlie and Nora had watched from a distance, never interfering, never helping.

It was during one of those harsh days that I stumbled upon Sebastian. He’d been left for dead, trapped in a silver-lined net under the open sky. The sun was rising, its rays a death sentence for any vampire caught unprotected.

Despite my training—despite the lessons drilled into by Charlie and Nora about self-preservation—I couldn’t leave him. Dragging him to a shaded cave, I’d saved his life.

When he’d recovered enough to speak, he’d introduced himself as Sebastian Lawrence, an outcast from his coven. He’d spoken against their coven master’s tyranny, and his defiance had nearly cost him his life.

"I owe you my life, pup," he’d said, his voice thick with gratitude. "Na your price, and I’ll pay it."

I’d laughed then, brushing off his dramatic declaration. But as we talked, I got comfortable with him and I told him about the Celestial Princess, about my father’s obsession and my own desperate need for my father’s approval.

Sebastian had listened, his sharp mind piecing together stories and legends I’d never heard before. He’d beco my ally, my confidant, and over the years, my closest advisor in the search for the heir and lastly, my best friend.

Now, as I sat in my darkened room, his words replaying in my mind, hope flickered to life. Maybe, just maybe, this lead would be the one.

And if it wasn’t?

I shoved the thought aside. Failure wasn’t an option. Not for . Not for Alexander.

In the morning, I’d face whatever Sebastian brought . And if it was a dead end, I’d keep searching.

Because that was what kings did. They endured. They fought. And they never, ever gave up.