Chapter 148 The Omega's Confession

Chapter 148 The Omega's Confession
Chapter 140

Jax POV

"Call the maid that brought this meal." My voice came out steady, calm. Too calm.

The guard at my door straightened. He swept his foot across the polished floor. "Yes, my lord."

He paid homage and quickly disappeared out of the room.

I could hear his footsteps fading away from the door.

I lowered myself perfectly in my chair, my countenance didn't change but right inside of me, my heart beat like it was about to drop into my stomach

My fingers wrapped around the recorder in my palm. The metal felt cold against my skin. The cassette attached through it pressed into my palm.

I pretended as if I saw nothing. Like I didn't watch, Brielle kept the recorder at the pottery stand. I went crazy throwing my hand in my mouth. She thought I didn't see her. She thought no one was watching.

My vision moved to the tempting dishes in front of me.

The roasted pork. The meat glistened with juice and spices penetrating into my eyes. Thanks to the candlelight that had illuminated the table.

The well prepared spinach sauce, dark green and thick sumptuous moss.

Steam rose from the plate in lazy curls that twisted and turned in the air. The smell made my stomach growl loud enough that I worried she might hear it. I was so hungry. I hadn't eaten since morning, and now the sun had set hours ago. The darkness outside my windows was complete.

But I couldn't eat it. Wouldn't dare. Not even a small bite.

My throat felt tight, like someone had wrapped their hands around it. What if something was in the food? What if Rosa or whoever sent Brielle had mixed something deadly into the sauce? Poison that would stop my heart? Poison that would make me sick enough to kill me slowly, painfully? Poison that would leave me weak and helpless?

And the recorder. Why plant a recorder unless they wanted to capture something important? My pain? My last words or something I have said they want to use to pull my throne down?

The questions spun in my head like a whirlwind.

I felt my breathing speed up. In and out. In and out. Faster than it should be. My fingers tapped against the wooden table. The sound filled the quiet room.

Anger burned in my chest like a fire that someone had poured oil on. It wanted to burst out. It wanted to make me flip the table, throw the plate against the wall, grab Brielle by her throat when she walked in and demand answers right away.

But I couldn't let it show. Not yet. Not until I knew everything. Not until I know who sent her.

I took a slow breath through my nose. I held it. Let it out through my mouth. Then another. The anger was still there, burning hot, but I pushed it down deep inside.

My mind went to Lyra. Earlier I had stood in the bedroom , and both of us watched how Brielle had almost been successful in bugging my palace. My home.

"I can't be part of this , Jax," she'd said. Her voice had been quiet but firm. " You have to deal with this on your own terms."

Then she walked out. Just like that. Her footsteps had been slow but steady. She didn't look back. Not even once.

Maybe she was right. Maybe she was the only smart one here. Maybe getting away from all of this was the wisest thing anyone could do.

I stared at the food again. The pork looked so good, so perfect. The edges were crispy and dark. The inside would be tender and juicy. The sauce smelled like herbs and butter and garlic. My mouth watered. My stomach ached with hunger. But I didn't move. Didn't reach for my fork. Didn't let my hand get anywhere near that plate.

Then an idea came to me. A test. A simple test that would tell me what I needed to know.

Footsteps echoed into the room. The sound of soft shoes hit the flag stone.

The door opened slowly, and Brielle walked in.

She tried to look strong. Her back was straight as an arrow. Her chin was up high. But her hands were locked together behind her back, fingers probably twisted tight enough to hurt. I could see the tension in her shoulders, in the line of her neck.

I lifted one finger and curled it toward me slowly. Come closer.

She walked forward. Each step looked hard, difficult. Like her feet were made of heavy stone. Like the floor was pulling at her.

One step. Two steps. Three. She stopped a few feet from the table.

"Who made this food?" I asked. My voice was soft, friendly even. Like we were just having a normal conversation.

"It's me." Her answer came quickly. Too quickly.

"Good." I nodded slowly, like I was pleased. "It tastes good."

But I hadn't tasted it. She would know that.

She looked down at the table. Her eyes scanned everything. The plate. The full glass of water with tiny bubbles still rising to the top. The unused fork and knife that sat perfectly straight beside the plate. Nothing had been touched. Not even moved a tiny bit. The food sat exactly as she'd placed it, exactly in the same spot.

Her face changed. I watched it happen. The hardness melted away like snow under the sun. Her legs began to shake. I could see her knees trembling under her simple dress. The fabric moved with each shake.

She took a small step backward. Then another. Moving away from me.

I pointed to the empty chair across from me. The one that faced mine. "Sit."

"Noo...ooo..." Her head shook side to side, hard. Fast. "M...my…" Her voice cracked in the middle of the word.

"It is taboo for an omega to sit with the king. Everyone knows this. It has always been this way."

"Don't give me that, Brielle." My voice cut through the air like a sharp blade through cloth. "Have a taste of what you prepared!"

Then I observed something. Strange. The obvious fear painted on her face had transformed into something I couldn't place. The fear had disappeared. It had been replaced with a thin smile which spread across her face.

"Oh!... There is nothing bad." Her voice sounded lighter now, almost cheerful. I'm almost happy. "I put in as much care as I could. I am sure that I didn't add anything to harm the king. I would never do such a thing. Never."

She reached forward with steady hands now. Her hand grabbed the knife. The metal scraped against the ceramic plate as she cut into the pork. A big piece. Large enough to choke on if she wasn't careful. She speared it with the fork, lifted it to her mouth, and chewed. Her jaw worked up and down. I watched her throat as she swallowed.

Then she scooped up spinach sauce with a spoon. The thick green liquid dripped back onto the plate. Into her mouth it went. She swallowed again.

I watched. Waited. I counted the seconds in my head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

She didn't fall down. Didn't grab her throat. Didn't show any signs of pain.

I nodded slowly. "Good."

First test passed.

"I can never harm you, king." The words came out between chews. She was still eating, taking more bites. Cutting more meat. "Never. Not ever. You have been kind to me."

"I know." I forced a smile onto my face. It felt fake, wrong. Like wearing a mask that didn't fit right. "I trust all my staff around me."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Bitter like poison itself.

"Take your dish and join me as we feast on this wonderful meal in front of us."

Her eyes went wide. As wide as the full moon outside. "My lord, I hope you will not put me into trouble." The words tumbled out fast, rushing over each other. "Your wife is in the courtyard right now. She might step in at any moment and say it is a big taboo for a weak omega like me to eat with the king, except on festival celebration days. She will punish me. She will make me suffer."

"Don't worry." My voice came out firm, strong. The voice of a king. "Rosa wouldn't touch you. I stand by my word that no one in this palace will raise anything evil against you under my watch. You are safe here. Safe with me."

More lies. But necessary ones.

Brielle let out a long breath. A breath she'd been holding for a while. Her shoulders dropped down from where they'd been hunched up by her ears. She reached for a clean plate from the side table, served herself food with the serving spoon, and sat down across from me. The chair creaked softly under her weight.

Everything seemed normal. Fine. Perfect even.

I watched her eat. She scooped the stew into her mouth like it was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted in her entire life. Her eyes closed when she chewed. Small sounds of pleasure came from her throat. Mmm. Mmm. She cut more pork. Ate more sauce. Drank some water.

One minute passed. Then two. Then three.

I let her relax. Let her think everything was fine and good. Let her think she was safe. Let her bury her attention in the plate in front of her, in the food, in the taste and smell.

Then I tucked my hand into my trouser pocket. My fingers wrapped around the recorder. Cold. Small. Dangerous. A weapon made of metal and secrets.

I pulled it out and placed it on the table. Hard. Firm. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room. It echoed off the walls.

Brielle's head snapped up fast. Her eyes locked onto the recorder. For just a second, so quick I almost missed it, her face went pale. White as fresh snow. White as bones. All the color drained away.

Then she looked back down at her plate. Fast. Too fast. Her eyes fixed on the food like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Who asked you to plant this in my apartment?"

"What?" Her voice was small, confused. Weak. Like she didn't understand the words coming from my mouth. Like I was speaking a foreign language.

Heat rushed through me. My jaw clenched so tight it hurt. My teeth ground together.

"Don't start that game with me, young lady." I paused. Breathed. I tried to push down the anger climbing up my throat like a living thing. "Or I will make you regret it for the rest of your life."

My voice dropped lower. Colder. Cold as winter ice.

"I won't ask you again. Who asked you to plant this recorder here?"

The fork fell from her hand. The knife followed. They hit the tiled floor with a loud clatter that echoed through the room. Clang. Clatter. Clang. The sound seemed to go on forever, bouncing off every surface.

"I..." Brielle's voice shook like leaves in a violent storm. She stopped. I started coughing. Hard, painful coughs that sounded like they hurt. Like something was stuck in her throat, choking her, stopping her air.

Her hands went to her neck. Grabbed at it. Tears began streaming down her face. Fat drops that left wet trails on her cheeks, that dripped down onto her dress and made dark spots on the fabric.

"T...the palace manager..."

She paused. More coughs that wracked her whole body. More tears that wouldn't stop. Her whole body shook now, trembling like she was standing in the snow with no coat.

"...sent me."

The words hung in the air between us.

Everything we
nt silent. Even her coughing stopped. The only sound was our breathing.

I stared at her. She stared at her hands, at the floor, at the fallen utensils, at anything but me.