She's in the fucking palace.
I stand frozen at the window, watching through the crystalline glass as my mother holds court in the throne room below. The sight before me defies every fucking expectation, every nightmare scenario that's plagued me for weeks.
Cosima sits at my mother's table like she belongs there, resplendent in a set of Surhiiran robes that seem crafted solely to enhance her ethereal beauty, surrounded by four alphas who look ready to tear apart anyone who so much as breathes wrong in her direction.
She's not in chains.
Not being held at gunpoint.
Not a prisoner.
She's…laughing.
The sound doesn't reach me through the thick palace glass, but I can see it in the way her head tilts back, silver hair catching the light like moonbeams. The way her shoulders shake when something genuinely amuses her instead of the sharp, bitter laughs I'm more familiar with.
What the fuck is going on?
The alphas around her are a mismatched collection of dangerous. There's Nikolai Vlakov. Has to be. The white hair and garish round red glasses are obvious enough, by all descriptions I've interrogated out of the wasteland rats on my way here. The most infamous warlord of the Outer Reaches, sitting at my mother's table.
Then there's an alpha with an eyepatch that looks like a grizzly bear on steroids who'd rather be anywhere but here. A golden-haired pretty boy sits beside him, his hand brushing against Cosima's hair and shoulders with a familiarity that makes my jaw clench hard enough to make the bones ache.
And there's a giant with a clawed metal arm and a silver mask. Must be the monster alpha those kids were babbling about at the market. The one they called Knight. He sits apart from the group, angled toward Cosima, watching her like a guard dog.
My brothers are here too. Revi is to be expected. As future heir to the throne, he rarely leaves the palace grounds, but Plague is another story. He's looking remarkably comfortable for someone who should be dealing with the aftermath of whatever clusterfuck led to this gathering. Even Revi is half-cocked on Surhiiran wine and laughing out loud at something the golden-haired alpha just said.
None of this makes sense.
I've been tracking her for what feels like an eternity, but even when I realized she was headed to Surhiira, even with our unsolidified mate bond pulling at my soul like fishhooks, I never expected her to end uphere.
In my childhood home. Wearing Surhiiran silks that make her look like she was born to them, violet eyes bright with something I haven't seen in too long.
Life.
Not just survival, not just endurance, but actual fuckinglife.
She's safe. She's whole. She's not being tortured in some wasteland pit or sold to the highest bidder or any of the other scenarios that have been eating me alive.
But the relief comes tangled with confusion that borders on paranoia. How did she get here? Why is she with these alphas? What hold do they have on her?
She's been passed from one set of hands to another for months. There's no scenario where she's here willingly.
The bandages on my hand itch beneath the cilice. A reminder of every day I've failed to free her. Every day the sword her father hung over her head stays poised to fall.
A sword she doesn't even know is there.
A sword I can't even fucking tell her about.
But I can get her out of here. Figure out the next steps later, once she's safe and away from this… whatever the fuckthisis.
Movement below catches my attention. My mother rises from her cushion with that grace that age has only enhanced,extending her hand to Cosima. They're leaving together, heading toward the gardens, and my heart rate kicks up.
This is an opportunity.
Get Cosima alone, get her out, figure out what the fuck is happening once she's far away from here.
I move through the palace like a ghost, using servant passages and hidden corridors I mapped out in countless childhood games with my brothers. The irony isn't lost on me that I'm sneaking through my own home like a thief, but I gave up any claim to this place the day I chose my new allegiance over Surhiira.
The gardens spread out below me as I position myself on a balcony, close enough to see but too far to hear what they're saying. Cosima and my mother are walking together like old friends, arms linked, heads bent together in conversation. The surreal sight makes my skin prickle with unease. Two worlds that were never supposed to meet, colliding at the worst possible time.
