Chapter 20 A Dangerous Preference
Elias
The Triune chamber smelled of incense and old stone.
I had always found it suffocating.
Sunlight filtered through the high lattice windows, striping the floor in pale gold. At the centre of the chamber, the Triune sat elevated on their carved dais—faces calm, hands folded, expressions sculpted to resemble benevolence.
Across the long table, the prince inclined his head, dark hair tied back in the style of the capital.
They were talking.
I stood at the edge of the chamber, hands clasped behind my back, eyes fixed on the patterned stone floor as the Triune congratulated itself for a victory it had no hand in.
“…the people responded exceptionally well,” Vespera was saying. “The procession, the banners, the visible unity. After a war like this, morale is everything.”
“The display reminded them who protects this kingdom,” Chancellor Vayron added smoothly. “And who commands that protection.”
My gaze drifted somewhere past them, unfocused, my mind stubbornly elsewhere.
Stone beneath my palms. The chill of night air in the lower corridors. A flash of movement where there should have been none.
A woman climbing a wall.
I saw it again: the way the vines had trembled under her weight, the reckless angle of her body, the sheer insanity of it. Omegas didn’t climb walls. Prisoners didn’t risk broken necks when escape was impossible.
Was she mad?
My jaw tightened.
The image of her slipping returned, uninvited.
If I’d been slower—
The thought slid under my skin uncomfortably. I remembered the sick lurch in my gut as I’d moved, fast and unthinking, when her footing slipped.
The way her body had gone slack for half a heartbeat before I’d caught her. Too light. Too fragile. The way she’d stared at me afterwards, wild-eyed, not grateful, very much in shock.
Was a pregnant omega supposed to be that light?
High General Othran cleared his throat. “Lord Elias.”
I blinked, dragged back into the chamber. Four sets of eyes were on me now. The prince’s smile sharpened, curious.
“Yes?” I said, my tone even.
The prince tilted his head. “We were asking if you have a preference.”
“A preference,” I repeated.
“For your omega,” Lady Vespera said lightly, fingers drumming against her goblet. Her smile was sharp, amused. “Your three days have elapsed. Tradition allows the Triune to decide on your behalf.”
I went still.
Ah. That.
“The pens hold several suitable omegas,” Chancellor Varyon continued. “Strong bodies. Compliant temperaments. There’s no reason to delay.”
I opened my mouth to give the expected answer—noncommittal, detached, something that would satisfy without revealing anything—
“She limps,” I said. “And doesn’t drown in the scent of fear.”
What?
The words fell into the chamber like a dropped goblet.
Silence followed.
I froze.
The prince’s brows lifted. Lady Vespera leaned forward slightly, interest flickering sharp and sudden in her dark eyes.
Heat crept up the back of my neck.
“She—” I stopped myself, jaw clenching. What was I doing?
The prince smiled faintly. “Go on.”
I forced my mind back under control, irritation flaring. “I meant,” I corrected coolly, “that physical impairments should be accounted for. They complicate placement.”
But it was too late. The damage was done.
Vespera’s eyes narrowed a fraction.
Chancellor Vayron folded his hands. “Interesting.”
My stomach dropped.
“Irrelevant,” I said sharply. “I have no preference.”
The prince studied me, amusement dimming into something more thoughtful. “You just described one.”
I said nothing.
A beat passed.
“Well,” High General Othran said at last, “no matter. Your indecision has been noted. An omega—or several—will be sent to your manor by the end of the day.”
A dismissal.
I inclined my head, muscles coiled tight beneath my skin. I turned and left without another word, acutely aware of Vespera’s gaze burning into my back.
I did not go home.
I told myself it was a coincidence. Habit. The lower pens were on the way. That was all.
The lie tasted thin.
The air changed as I descended—cooler, damper. The smells sharpened. Soap. Sweat. Old iron. Familiar, in the way old wounds were familiar.
I slowed as I approached, my eyes searching despite myself.
I saw her before she saw me.
The omega stood near the wash troughs, a basket of damp clothing balanced against her hip. She moved more slowly than the others, favouring one leg. The basket was angled just so, pressed protectively against her middle.
Had she hurt herself last night?
Had I missed it?
“Guard,” I called quietly.
The guard turned, surprise flickering across his face before he straightened. “Lord Elias.”
I recognised Marek immediately. So he was serving here now? My gaze slid back to the omega—to the faint scars along her wrists. The way she kept her head down but her awareness sharp.
“That omega,” I said, “she doesn’t speak?”
Marek hesitated. Then, carefully, “No, sir.”
“And she doesn’t hear?”
Another pause. Longer this time. “No, sir. I—I heard she was born that way.”
I nodded once. Marek was gentle. Protective. But to lie for a random omega? That was strange.
A disturbance rippled through the pen.
A nobleman entered with Vespera at his side, laughter already curling his mouth. His eyes landed on the omega like a claim.
“That one,” he said, pointing. “She’ll do.”
I watched her shoulders stiffen.
I stepped forward.
“No,” I said coldly.
The noble blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“She’s assigned,” I said flatly.
The noble scoffed. “To laundry? Don’t insult me. I was promised entertainment.”
I turned my head slowly, fixing him with a cold, measuring stare. “Not today.”
The noble’s smile thinned. “You don’t own her.”
“No,” I agreed. “But I outrank you.”
Silence snapped tight between us.
Vespera watched, her eyes flicking once between me and the omega—filing it away.
The noble huffed, backing down, but his gaze lingered, ugly and resentful. “You’ll regret this,” he muttered before stalking off, fury barely contained.
The omega was staring at me.
I felt it like heat against my skin.
It scraped along my spine, made me acutely aware of myself in a way I despised.
I hadn’t meant to come here. Hadn’t meant to intervene. Hadn’t meant—
“This omega,” I said abruptly, not looking at her, “is reassigned. Inner laundry. Immediately.”
Vespera’s head snapped toward me. “That’s unnecessary.”
“I disagree.”
“You’re being sentimental,” she said lightly. “Careful, Elias. That sort of thing gets noticed.”
I turned then, my eyes hard. “So does defiance.”
Rank settled heavily between us.
Vespera smiled thinly and said nothing more. Instead, I watched her eyes shift to the omega, who hid behind me.
I turned away without looking at her.
By the time I reached my family’s manor, my skin felt too tight.
The garden was quiet, late afternoon light pooling around the stone paths. My younger sister sat beneath the fig tree, skirts spread, fingers idly plucking leaves.
“You look lost,” she said gently.
I sat beside her. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s usually true.”
We shared a faint smile.
“You’re tired,” she continued. “Different tired.”
I said nothing, my gaze drifting to the garden paths.
“How is it,” I asked finally, “being an omega here?”
She plucked a leaf from the planter, rolling it between her fingers. “Being a noble omega has its advantages. Privacy. Guards who hesitate. Meals that don’t run out.”
“And the disadvantages?”
Her fingers stilled.
“Expectation,” she said quietly. “Observation. Being reminded—constantly—of what I am to the kingdom, not who.”
My jaw tightened.
She hesitated, fingers tightening around the leaf until it bent.
“They’ve started,” she said more softly. “Father’s been approached.”
I turned to her. “Already?”
She nodded. “Just inquiries. Matches.” Her mouth curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And I’m scared—because once they start looking, things stop being mine.”
I couldn’t agree more.
“There’s been talks of names. Land holdings. Political suitability.” A pause. “I told him I’d like the countryside.”
I blinked. “You?”
She smiled faintly. “Imagine it. Open fields. Animals that don’t care what I am. A house small enough that secrets don’t echo.”
“You’d be bored in a week.”
“Perhaps,” she admitted. “But I’d be safe.”
The word lodged beneath my ribs.
I exhaled slowly. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”
She looked at me then—really looked. “That’s what frightens me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Silence stretched.
She leaned her shoulder against my arm, light but deliberate. “You’ve been different since you came back.”
I stiffened, then forced myself to relax. “Different how?”
“Like you’re no longer a part of this.” She glanced up at me. “Like you’re tired of pretending it’s normal.”
My throat tightened.
I did not answer.
She squeezed my arm once, then withdrew. “You don’t have to say it. Just—don’t forget us when you decide what kind of man you’re going to be.”
“I won’t,” I said immediately.
“I know,” she replied. “Again, that’s why I worry.”
Footsteps echoed inside the manor.
I stood, rolling my shoulders as if shedding weight. “Stay here.”
She smirked. “Always telling me what to do.”
“And you always ignoring me.”
“True.”
I turned toward the doors—and froze.
Triune guards moved through the hall beyond the glass, voices sharp and careless.
“…orders came down directly…”
“…some omega in the pens…”
“…waste of time chasing a bitch like that…”
“…not our place to question it…”
My hand curled slowly into a fist. I knew it, the Triune were trying to get rid of someone. It's no wonder they had so many guards out.
But how dare they come into my house unannounced?
"Wait here," I told by sister.
I stepped inside, looking to confront them—
And saw her.
The omega was pressed into the shadowed corner near the servants’ corridor, body coiled tight, sliver eyes tracking the guards.
Huh? Was she hiding from them?
Before she could move, I was behind her.
My hand closed around her wrist.
I pulled her back against me, my grip firm.
Her breath hitched.
“What,” I said low, close to her ear, “are you doing here?”