I wake well before dawn on what will be my last night of freedom, my body alert despite the restless sleep. The stars visible through my narrow window tell me there's ample time before sunrise. Years of training have conditioned me to function on minimal rest—a skill that will serve me well in the Shadow Court, where vigilance might be the difference between life and death.
The chamber is silent save for the soft hiss of dying embers in the fireplace. I press my ear against the door momentarily, picking up the steady breathing of the two guards Malakai posted—a precaution that would be insulting if it weren't so amusing. They think they're guarding a helpless court lady, not someone who has infiltrated fortresses far better protected than this.
I twist my mother's ring on my finger—the only piece of home I have with me in this foreign place. The silver band carries a faint trace of her scent, preserved by Light Court magic. Lavender and morning dew. An Omega's scent, just like mine, though I never knew it until yesterday. I press the small moonstone setting in a specific pattern. It clicks softly and reveals a hidden compartment containing a fine powder—a sleeping agent I've carried with me since my first deep-cover mission.
I carefully tap a portion into my palm, then press my ear against the door one more time. Both guards have finally stopped their restless pacing and settled against the wall—their breathing steady, deep. This is my window. I move to the door and blow a careful stream of the mixture through the crack beneath. The powder will affect Betas more strongly than Alphas, but these guards are both Betas—I scented them carefully earlier. I hear the subtle change in their breathing as it takes effect. The powder works quickly, making them drowsy but not unconscious. Just enough to slow their reactions and dull their senses.
I move across the room quickly. My gaze lands on my wedding dress that hangs like a specter in the corner, the black fabric seeming to absorb what little light filters through the narrow windows. I turn away from it, pushing aside the sense of dread that threatens to rise whenever I think about what today’s ceremony holds.
About Malakai's claiming bite on my throat. About his knot locked inside me while I'm helpless in heat. About becoming his mate in every biological sense of the word.
Focus on the now. One step at a time.
I change into the plainest outfit I could assemble from the Shadow Court garments provided for me—black trousers and a simple gray tunic. I twist my hair into a tight knot at the nape of my neck, making sure the scent glands at my throat are covered. Even with suppressants still in my system, I can't risk my Omega scent leaking out. After the servants left me yesterday, I spent hours examining every inch of my chambers. I knocked on each stone in the walls, testing for hollow sounds. I checked the floorboards for loose panels, ran my fingers along the mortar lines searching for drafts, even inspected the seemingly solid fireplace for hidden mechanisms. Hours of meticulous work, but it paid off when I discovered what I was looking for—a narrow maintenance passage behind the heavy tapestry depicting a Shadow Court victory.
I slip behind the tapestry and into the narrow passage beyond. It's tight, dusty, and pitch black, but my fingers trace the rough stone walls confidently. I count each step, creating a mental map I can use to navigate my return. The air is stale and carries the faint chemical burn of ancient scent-masking wards—remnants of old security measures that haven't been maintained in decades.
The path twists and turns, occasionally branching. I am guided by intuition and the subtle drift of fresh air. Eventually, I emerge into a small storage room near the kitchens, where servants are already beginning preparations for today's festivities—my wedding feast. The irony almost makes me smile. I have perhaps three hours before the servants arrive to prepare me for the ceremony—three hours to meet Asher and return before anyone discovers I'm missing.
I wait for a gap in their movements, noting the patrol pattern I've memorized since arriving. Twelve guards, rotating positions every seventeen minutes, with a deliberate gap in coverage near the eastern kitchen—either sloppy security or a trap. I choose to risk the latter, timing my movements to the cook's shouting that provides perfect audio cover. The scents of roasting meat and baking bread help mask my presence, overwhelming any stray Omega pheromones that might escape.
The early morning palace is a maze of activity and shadow, but I navigate it like I've lived here for years rather than one night. It's what I was trained to do—adapt, observe, survive. My inner map of the palace is still forming, but I've memorized enough to find my way to a servants' exit near the eastern gardens.
Outside, the twilight of the Shadow Court is slightly lighter, heralding the coming dawn. I move quickly along the edge of the grounds, using ornamental hedges and architectural features for cover. The boundary between Shadow and Light is nearly two miles from the palace—a neutral zone where the magic of both realms mingles in unpredictable ways. Where scent-dampening spells from both courts cancel each other out, creating a rare space where even the most skilled trackers struggle to follow a trail.
It's there that Asher will be waiting, if my message reached him. Before being brought to the Shadow Court, I'd managed to dispatch a coded warning through one of our established channels. A contingency I'd set up years ago, never truly believing I'd need to use it.
As I near the palace walls, I spot a patrol of guards making their rounds. Two Alphas, their aggressive scents carrying on the pre-dawn air. I freeze, pressing myself against a cold stone column, barely breathing as they pass within feet of me. My suppressants hold, thank the Light. One turns his head in my direction, nostrils flaring slightly, and I prepare to incapacitate him if necessary, my hand finding the hairpin concealed in my sleeve.
The guard's attention is drawn away by his companion's comment about how he's hungry and can't wait to end his shift. They continue on their route, their heavy Alpha scents fading as they move away. I exhale slowly, then move again when they're out of sight.
The outer wall is my first major obstacle—fifteen feet high and regularly patrolled. But walls are built to keep armies out, not single assassins in. There's a drainage channel near the eastern corner that narrows to a grate barely wide enough for a small person to squeeze through. Fortunately, I've always been slender, my Omega frame naturally slight even by court standards.
The channel smells of stagnant water and decay, but I ignore the discomfort, focusing instead on moving quickly and silently. The metal grate at the end is secured with a rusted lock that yields easily to the thin pick I keep woven into my braid.
Beyond the wall, the landscape transitions from the manicured palace grounds to the wilder growth of the Shadow Realm's outer territories. Dark trees with twisted trunks reach toward the twilight sky, their branches creating patterns that seem almost deliberate, as if the forest itself is watching. The air carries strange scents—cold stone, ancient magic, and something that makes my Omega instincts uneasy.
I move with greater caution now, aware that the forests of the Shadow Court have dangers beyond mere guards. Strange creatures inhabit these woods, drawn to the unique magical properties of the boundary lands. Some are attracted to Omega scent, even through suppressants.
As I travel, the landscape gradually begins to change. The twisted black trees give way to a mixture of shadow-touched foliage and more familiar Light Court flora. The air feels different too—less oppressive, though still nothing like the golden warmth of my homeland.
I reach the designated meeting point—a small clearing concealed within a dense thicket of magic-dampening thornbushes, where a stream bisects the boundary between realms. The unusual magical properties of this location create a natural blind spot in scrying magic, one of the few truly secure meeting places in the borderlands. It also dampens scent trails, making it nearly impossible for even Alpha trackers to follow someone here. On one bank, the water runs clear and bright; on the other, it turns dark and still, reflecting nothing. The convergence creates a strange, shimmering effect where the two meet.
He isn't here yet. I check the position of the stars visible through the canopy. I'm early, but not by much. I settle into a defensive position that offers both cover and a clear view of all approach routes. The waiting is always the hardest part of any operation—that uncomfortable space where plans are set but outcomes remain unknown.
A strange stillness falls over the forest, the typical ambient sounds fading to nothing. I dismiss it as the natural caution of wildlife near the boundary, but a prickle of unease remains.
My mind drifts to Cassian, still within the Shadow Court palace. My impetuous, well-meaning brother who inadvertently delivered me into this situation. After years of believing his sister was merely a diplomatic attaché, he now knows I'm a trained killer. And an Omega. The shock in his eyes still haunts me—the double betrayal of learning both secrets at once. He looked at me as if seeing a stranger wearing his sister's face.
A twig snaps somewhere to my left. I'm instantly alert, a dagger appearing in my hand as if conjured.
"Your reflexes are still impressive," says a familiar voice, warm with amusement. "Though I'd have been disappointed if you'd relaxed them, even for me."
Asher steps into the clearing, and something tight in my chest eases at the sight of him. He moves with fluid grace, his Alpha scent washing over me—pine and leather and summer rain. Six years we've trained together, four years as lovers, three missions where we saved each other's lives. The scar that runs from his right temple to the corner of his mouth—a souvenir from the Eastern Territories mission, where he took a blade meant for me.
His Alpha scent has never triggered my heat, never made my Omega instincts respond. We're compatible, but not true mates. Safe.
"You're late," I say, sheathing my dagger but not moving from my position.
