Kings obsession

Mira Point of View.

   I couldn't stop shaking. My father, Anton, stood by the carriage with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes daring me to protest.

 I wouldn't, though. I never did. He had already made up his mind, and I couldn't change it.

 "You're going to do this, Mira," he said coldly. "You are my child and It's your duty to this family."

 Duty.

 That word stung like a whip. What duty did I owe to a man who had hated me all my life?

 I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. "You're selling me like I'm... cattle. Is this the duty you talk about?" I asked, holding back not to scream into his face.

 "You should be grateful," he snapped. "The Lycan Kings are the most powerful beings in the realm. You'll live like a queen there, and they'll want nothing from you except children. You'll have a purpose in their lives."

 Purpose.

 My nails dug into my palms. I wanted to scream, to fight back, but I held my tongue.

 "If you say no, Mira," he continued, his voice dropping, "you'll be condemning your family to ruin. You'll lose the chance of revenging your mother's death, and we'll have nothing. Is that what you want?"

 "No," I whispered.

 "Good." He opened the carriage door and gestured for me to climb in. "Do as you're told, and you might even come to like it there."

 I climbed into the carriage without another word, staring straight ahead as the horses began to move.

 The journey felt like it lasted forever. The wheels of the carriage creaked, and the forest blurred past me. I didn't know what the Lycan Kings' castle would look like, but I imagined it as a cold, dark fortress, fitting for monsters like them.

 I rubbed my hands together to stop them from shaking. "You can do this," I whispered to myself. "You have to."

 When the carriage stopped, my heart raced.

 The door swung open, and a tall man with sharp features and piercing eyes stood there. His dark clothes and stern expression told me he was someone important.

 "You must be Mira," he said in a deep voice.

 "Yes," I replied, trying to sound braver than I felt.

 "I'm Darius, the Kings' steward. Follow me."

 I stepped out, and my legs wobbled beneath me. The castle wasn't dark at all. It was massive, with high stone walls, golden gates, and gardens that stretched as far as I could see. But it didn't feel welcoming.

 "This way," Darius said, leading me through the gates.

 The servants we passed didn't meet my eyes. The air felt heavy, and every step made my heart beat louder in my chest.

 "They're waiting for you in the throne room," Darius said, stopping in front of large double doors.

 I nodded, my throat too dry to speak. He pushed the doors open, and I stepped inside.

 The throne room was grand, with high ceilings and chandeliers that sparkled like stars. Four thrones sat at the end of the room, and on each throne sat a man. No, not men. Lycans.

 My knees nearly gave out as I stared at them.

 The first one had hair as dark as midnight, with sharp features and cold eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. He sat with an air of authority, his posture stiff and commanding.

 The second one was blond, his golden hair falling over his forehead. He looked calmer, but his eyes held a dangerous glint, like a predator watching its prey.

 The third had hair as red as fire, his expression hard and unreadable. His arms were crossed, his muscles tense as he leaned back in his throne.