The capital rises ahead like someone’s fever dream of what power should look like. All towers and gold bullshit designed to make regular people feel like insects.
“Well, that’s just lovely,” she mutters, staring at the same view. “Did they build this place to make people feel like shit, or is that just a happy accident?”
“Intimidation is the point,” I tell her.
“Mission accomplished.” She smooths her plain black dress—cotton, not silk, because apparently we’re going for ‘humble peasant’ today. “I look like I’m going to a funeral.”
“You look fine.”
“Fine. Every girl’s dream compliment.”
I reach for her hand, thumb brushing her knuckles, but she pulls back. The guards riding alongside are already side-eyeing her like she’s a car accident they can’t look away from.
“Not here,” she says quietly.
Smart. Public displays of affection between the Dire Prince and his bonded Omega probably aren’t winning us any popularity contests. Especially when we’re about to walk into a nest of vipers wearing crowns.
The palace gates loom ahead—all shimmery runes and “fuck you, peasants” energy. Soldiers in fancy silver armor step forward, and I watch the gears turn in their heads.
One takes a subtle sniff. Real subtle, like a bloodhound pretending to have manners.
“Omega,” he mutters, not quite under his breath.
“Open the gates,” I say, voice sharp enough to cut glass.
They do, but the damage is done. Welcome to court, Lucy. Hope you packed your thick skin.
The throne room’s exactly what you’d expect from someone with unlimited money and zero taste. Huge, cold, echoing—designed to make you feel like an ant at a giant’s convention.
Toren stands under a blood-red banner looking like he was carved from disappointment and expensive marble. His eyes rake over her like she’s something unpleasant he stepped in.
“Is this your companion?” he asks me, voice dripping with politeness that isn’t polite at all. “The Omega?”
“Her name is Lucy,” I say evenly.
His smile’s sharper than his sword. “How… curious. The last Dire Alpha, bonded to a wolf without title. Without mark. Without purpose.”
“Thanks for the warm welcome,” she says before she can stop herself. “Really feeling the royal hospitality here.”
The silence that follows makes you wonder if she just signed her own death warrant.
“She stands beside me by right of bond,” I say, stepping slightly forward.
“She stands behind you,” Toren corrects, cold as winter. “As she should.”
Her face burns, but she keeps her mouth shut. Barely.
“She may be many things,” the king continues, circling his throne like a shark, “but she will never be queen.”
“Careful,” my voice drops to something dangerous.
“Is that a warning?”
“It’s a promise.”
He waves us off like we’re boring entertainment. “You may present yourself to council tomorrow. I suggest you clean her up before then.”
“Charming,” she mutters as we turn to leave. “Real father-of-the-year material.”
Lucy left.
“You may bring her to court,” Toren’s saying, “but she will not sit beside you.”
“She is bonded to me.” I keep my voice quiet, controlled.
“And yet unmarked. Untitled. The people will not accept an Omega with power—especially not one touched by curse or bond.”
“She is not cursed.”
“Then prove it. Unmate her.”
The silence stretches until it could snap.
“You won’t,” he continues, sounding smug as hell. “Because you’re weak. You always have been when it comes to mercy. You’d rather die than shame a girl who opened her legs for you.”
“She bled because of Valen, you know how he treated her like shit, like a rag,” I snap. “And you stood by.”
“She embarrassed you. She will continue to. A mutt without status. If you parade her in front of the highborn, they will question your leadership.”
“I don’t care what they question.”
“You should. You will wear the crown. You will bind your name to a house with legacy, not a cursed girl from nowhere.”
“She is not from nowhere. She is mine.”
“Then she can be your mistress,” he says, and I can practically hear his shrug. “But she cannot rule beside you.”
I don’t reply because what’s the point? He’s already decided how this plays out.