Betrayed By My Mate, Claimed By His Lycan King Uncle
Chapter 64: You’re Here To Train.

Chapter 64: You’re Here To Train.

Sorayah’s eyes trailed after Dimitri, watching his silhouette through the sheer silk curtain that separated the steamy bathhouse from the main room. Though the fabric obscured most of the view, she could still make out the outline of his tall frame as he dressed. It wasn’t until she heard the final rustle of fabric and the flap of the tent being pushed aside that she truly let herself relax and began her bath in earnest, washing away every trace of sweat, dirt, and blood.

No one would dare enter the Beta Lord’s tent without a death wish. Anyone who tried would surely be acting under Dimitri’s direct order. And Dimitri, for all his mystery, would never send someone in while she was bathing. That much, at least, she was sure of.

She remained submerged in the steaming water, her body easing under the warmth, but her mind drifted back to the mines.

The image of dead corpses she had seen, some still warm, others bloated with decay. Limbs ripped away, eyes gouged out, mouths frozen in soundless screams. The image kept flashing in her head and for a moment, nausea surged up her throat. She clenched her jaw and willed it back down.

Just how many more humans have to die? How many corpses had been taken to the valley of the dead today again? She thought to herself while tears rolled down her cheeks unknowingly.

You shouldn’t be thinking about that right now, Sorayah, she scolded herself internally, giving her cheeks a few firm taps in an attempt to focus. Focus. Survive the training. Stay alive through the war. That’s what matters.

With a deep breath, she wiped her tears away, pushed the horror thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand. She bathed quickly after that, scrubbing herself clean before stepping out of the water. Crossing into the room, her gaze immediately fell upon a neatly folded pair of black trousers and a crisp white shirt laid out on the bed.

Her brows furrowed.

Didn’t he say someone would bring me an outfit? she wondered, narrowing her eyes at the clothes. I didn’t hear or see anyone come in. I didn’t even feel the tent shift...

Dimitri must have said that just to make me feel uncomfortable while having my bath. Is it that the outfit was already in the room as he had anticipated my needs hence he placed it down for me.

"Whatever though," Sorayah muttered under her breath, dismissing the thought. She quickly dressed, slipping into the clothes, which were surprisingly well-fitted. She tied her golden hair back into a tight bun, tucking in loose strands until her appearance was convincingly masculine. With one last glance at her reflection in the polished metal plate propped beside the bed, she squared her shoulders and exited the tent.

**

Outside, the air was filled with the sounds of training. Soldiers dressed identically to her stood in tight formation, weapons of all kinds in hand. Their movements were swift and brutal as they trained. The sharp clang of metal striking metal filled the air, mixed with the occasional barked instruction from Liam, who stood on a raised platform, overseeing the session with a hawk’s gaze.

Sorayah’s gaze soon fell on Dimitri who sat silently, at one side of the platform Liam was standing , his posture relaxed but eyes sharp as he assessed the warriors before him.

But when they’re gaze met, Sorayah felt cold ran down her spine.

"Hey, you!" Dimitri’s voice rang out, sharp, cold, and commanding as he stood up.

Sorayah froze.

The soldiers instantly halted, their attention snapping toward the sound of his voice. A tense silence swept through the grounds, all eyes turning toward her as Dimitri lifted a single finger and pointed in her direction.

"You. Come here."

The authority in his tone left no room for question.

Liam gave a curt nod toward the warriors as it had been clarified who Dimitri was talking to. "Continue the training," he ordered.

The soldiers returned to their drills, though their eyes lingered on Sorayah for a moment longer before focusing back on their weapons. As the clangs resumed, Sorayah made her way toward Dimitri, her steps measured and careful.

Once she stood before him, she dropped into a deep, respectful bow. "Here I am, Your Highness."

Dimitri’s eyes, pale and unreadable, flicked toward a long table nearby, upon which an array of gleaming weapons rested in neat rows.

"Pick a weapon," he instructed. "The one you’re most familiar with. The one that calls to your hand like a second skin."

Sorayah’s throat went dry. Her gaze shifted to the table. There were swords, daggers, spears, whips, even a few war hammers. But her fingers moved with certainty toward the bow and quiver of arrows, her steps sure.

She lifted it gently, reverently like greeting an old friend.

"I choose this, Your Highness," she said, stepping back toward him with the weapon in hand. "The bow has always been mine."

Dimitri’s lips twitched slightly, not quite a smile but something close.

"Oh, I see... Follow me, then," He said, his voice smooth but distant. Without waiting for her response, he turned sharply and began walking toward the camp’s exit.

Huh? Where are we going now? Am I not supposed to train with the others? Sorayah wondered, frowning in confusion. But she had no choice but hurried after him immediately, boots crunching against the earth.

Dimitri’s strides were long and purposeful. He moved swiftly, and soon the sounds of training, clashing metal, grunts, and barked orders faded into the distance. All that remained was the rhythm of their footsteps, the soft creak of tree trunks swaying in the breeze, and the rustling of leaves beneath their feet. Birds chirped somewhere high above, oblivious to the tense silence between the two.

They walked deeper into the forest, the underbrush thickening with every step. The terrain grew uneven, forcing Sorayah to climb over exposed roots and descend slick ridges. Still, Dimitri did not slow down. Not once.

Minutes turned to what felt like hours. Her legs ached, breath came in shallow gasps, and yet he moved as if the forest itself made way for him.

Finally, unable to bear the silence or the pain any longer, Sorayah stopped in her tracks, doubling over with exhaustion.

"Just where are we going, Your Highness?" she called after him, panting heavily. "We’ve been walking through this forest for what feels like forever, uphill, downhill, through thorns and bushes..."

Dimitri halted. He didn’t turn around.

"Stop talking and keep walking," he replied coldly, resuming his pace with the same effortless speed. "We still have a long way to go."

His words sent a wave of irritation and anxiety down Sorayah’s spine. Her fists clenched as she forced herself to move again, stumbling after him. Is he trying to kill me out here? The thought flickered in her mind. But why go through all this trouble just to end me? If he wanted to kill me, he could have done so with a snap of his fingers.

What is this bastard thinking?!

Then, without warning, Dimitri reached forward and pushed aside a cluster of massive leaves, revealing what lay beyond them.

Sorayah stopped dead in her tracks.

A large river more vast than she had ever seen stretched before her. Its shimmering surface reflected the sky above, and the gentle current danced with sunlight. It was hidden well, veiled by thick forest and foliage, secluded and untouched.

Her eyes widened.

Wait... Didn’t he say there wasn’t a stream nearby when I asked? she thought in disbelief, her breath catching.

Why bring me here now though? she wondered, her mind racing. I’m supposed to be training with the others... Is this his way of isolating me?

Fine. I might be trained in martial arts but those are human techniques. I’ve never learned werewolf combat. Not their brutal, primal way of fighting.

Is Dimitri trying to keep me ignorant? Let me die on the battlefield without any advantage?

What a bastard!

"Finally... we’re here," Dimitri announced, turning to face her. A faint smirk curled on his lips as his sharp eyes locked onto hers, sending a jolt of confusion and wariness straight to her core.

What is he looking at?

Sorayah hesitated before stepping closer, the river’s cool breeze brushing against her sweat-soaked skin. She dared to speak.

"What exactly are we doing here, Your Highness?" she asked, her voice steady despite the storm brewing within her. "You said we’re here, and yes, I can clearly see that. But why are we here? Surely not to bathe again not after I already did in your bathhouse. Besides, you’re not the type to indulge someone else’s whims."

Dimitri didn’t answer right away. Instead, he slowly drew the sword strapped at his waist, the blade glinting menacingly in the sunlight. His emerald gaze never left her.

"You’re here to train," he said flatly.

Sorayah blinked in surprise.

Train?

Dimitri stepped forward, the blade resting lazily in his hand, as if he had no intention of using it but also no intention of putting it away.

"You claim to have learned martial arts, but you look too weak to have mastered anything worthwhile," he continued coldly. "You complained the entire journey here, something a real soldier wouldn’t do. That alone tells me everything I need to know about your supposed training."

His words stung. Sorayah clenched her jaw.

"You’re human, after all," he added with a hint of disdain. "The tricks you used at the palace can only be used to kill Mira’s maid, but on the battlefield? They’re useless."

Tricks?!!

Her brows twitched. She wanted to snap back, but she held herself in check. What’s the point? That’s not even the most important thing right now...

"You said the word ’train,’" Sorayah said, confusion breaking through her irritation. "Train what, exactly?"

Dimitri’s expression turned grim. "If you want even the slightest chance of surviving the werewolf war, you’ll bring out that bow of yours and stop talking."

His voice had turned deadly serious now, the teasing completely gone. It shocked Sorayah into stillness.

"I’ll teach you a few things, basic steps, critical tactics," he continued, eyes narrowing. "And I hope that pretty little brain of yours can keep up. Because if it can’t, you’ll die. It’s as simple as that."

Sorayah stared at him, her heart pounding. For once, there was no arrogance in his voice. Just cold, brutal honesty.

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