“Let me help!” I ran to her, arms outstretched.
“No,” she rasped. Then I realized Melina’s arm wasn’t moving. Wasn’t warm enough to move.
She was dead. “W-what happened?”
“Farthan and his crew…” Her voice broke, and I ran to get her water.
I couldn’t think about Melina lying dead on the sofa in the main room. The others, the ones not helping patch up the battered women, gathered around, trying to comfort Valerie. One reached out to brush Melina’s hair back, and Valerie let out a hiss like a cat. “Don’t touch her!”
She sat like a statue, tears rolling down her perfectly still face, Melina’s head on her lap until dawn, when servants came in and took her lover’s body away.
I sat next to her for three days, until she spoke. “They mocked her while they killed her. They told her she was failed, broken. Not enough.” Her eyes flashed blue fire. “They said she was too thin, her hair was ugly and brittle, her breasts too small to find. They laughed as she died.”
I swallowed hard. “She was perfect,” I whispered. “She was enough. She was funny, and taught me how to make cat’s cradles, and loved playing her lap harp, and, and…” I broke down.
Valerie gathered me into her arms. “You are enough as well, Roya. Your face could be scarred, your body ruined, and you would still be enough. This evil world of men will try to teach you that what you look like is all that matters. But the truth is, the outside is the very least of who you are. Who you can be. Remember that.” She took my cheeks in her hands, her grip almost bruising as she stared into my eyes. “No matter what they do to you, you are not your body. You are your soul. And you are strong, Roya. Strong enough to defeat them all.”
“I am,” I breathed. “I am strong. I won’t forget.”
“Good,” she answered, embracing me. She shook silently, sobbing without making any sound, as we had learned to do in the Omega Suite. If we all cried out loud when we needed to, we would never be able to hear ourselves think.
“Someday,” I promised, “I’ll kill them all.”
“No, my sweet girl,” Valerie replied, once she could speak. “That’s my job.”
ROYA
Ihadn’t truly understood then what lay in Valerie’s eyes, the depth of love that she had shown me daily. She had sworn to keep me safe, like a mother would her own child.
Was I that child? Did I have a living parent after all?
I opened my mouth to ask the question, but her eyes shot to the end of the pier at the sound of pounding boots. Already aware of the pursuit, Thorn grabbed my arm, pulling me down the long walkway.
“Run!” He practically lifted me off my feet, carrying me to the boat. The sailors had seen him running and had started pushing away from the pier with long poles, the sails making strange flapping sounds in the light breeze. “Get below,” he whispered. “I’ll kill any who make it on board.”
But Valerie had already engaged the small group, none of them Alphas that I could see. These were assassins, not warlords. For a moment, she fought alone, but then ten dark-clad killers, bristling with weapons, appeared from the shadows. The sound of metal striking metal echoed across the water as they joined Valerie’s fight.
Of course, she had brought ten of her guards, hidden away. She wasn’t the Queen of Half-Assing, either.
Sword in hand, Thorn nodded to the corridor that led below, and I hurried to find the room that must have been prepared for me, and maybe Thorn as well. It was small, maybe ten feet by eight feet, and the walls were a gleaming, polished golden teak. There was a hammock, a narrow bed with a gray and white quilt, and a chest on the floor. On the small desk sat a bottle of water, a stack of books, and—charmingly—a silver-handled hairbrush and mirror.
A gift from Valerie?
I settled onto the bed and pondered the revelation I’d just had. Could Valerie be my mother? She was eighteen years older than me. She had been the oldest of the last crop of Omegas in the Suite, and I the youngest. The others had told me my mother had died when I was born, and I’d had no reason to doubt them. None of us knew who our fathers were, besides me, since our mothers had been bred like cattle. Suddenly, the food I’d scarfed down earlier threatened to force its way back up.
I uncorked the bottle and took a sip, realizing too late it wasn’t water at all, but pure spirits. Coughing, I dribbled all over my front. The door opened behind me. Of course Thorn would catch me spitting alcohol everywhere.
“What is this, rum?”
“I’d have thought you’d know vodka, littlekralovna.”
I spun around, a knife in my hand by the time my cloak stopped swirling. “What are you doing here?” I demanded. It was Kavin, the warrior I’d… My eyes dropped to the front of his pants.
“Ah, ah! No more making mashed potatoes for you.” His white teeth flashed in the center of his golden beard as he moved a hand over his crotch. He was so tall, he had to duck to avoid hitting the ceiling. Seven feet, easily, and all of it hard, corded muscle. And he was so physically beautiful, I had to blink, as if I’d been staring into the sun. In the alley, I hadn’t noticed how bright his eyes were, or the sharpness of his cheekbones. I was beautiful for a woman, but he matched me for physical perfection.
I suppressed a shiver as his warm eyes caressed me, from head to toe.
“The question is, fiery Omega, what are you doing in here? This is my room, after all.”
