The doors to the chamber burst open with a sound like thunder.
I pause, blade still raised, irritation flaring at the interruption. Who would dare?
"STOP!"
A woman's voice, fierce and commanding, cuts through the silence. I turn, the shadow-blade dissipating slightly as my concentration shifts.
She strides into my throne room like she owns it, her white and gold robes billowing around her like captured sunlight. Behind her, an older man hurries to keep pace, his face a mask of strategic panic.
And then her scent hits me.
Sweet merciful darkness.
Vanilla and light magic with an undercurrent of steel and blood—a contradiction that shouldn't exist but does, magnificent and impossible. The scent is heavily masked, dulled by suppressants and chemical washes, but my Alpha senses catch it anyway, reaching through the artificial barriers to find what lies beneath.
Omega.
Hidden. Suppressed. Mine.
My body responds instantly, violently. My shadows pulse with sudden hunger, every instinct roaring to the surface with an intensity I haven't felt since before my claiming bite scarred over decades ago—a failed bond that left me numb to every Omega I've encountered since. Until now. Until her. Every cell in my body screams one word: MATE.
I know her immediately, of course—Seraphina of House Lumina, daughter of Councilor Marcus. I've seen her at various peace delegations over the years, always standing proudly at her father's side, always watching me with those piercing golden eyes that give away nothing. I truly began noticing her three years ago, during peace negotiations, when she calmly disarmed Lord Veren's aggressive accusations with such precision it was like watching a master duelist. But I didn't understand why she captivated me—not until this moment, when her scent breaks through those suppressants and my dormant instincts finally recognize what she is.
She is even more magnificent up close, without the formal distance of court proceedings between us. The white gold robes hug curves that have haunted my dreams for longer than I care to admit. Her dark hair cascades down her back like midnight silk, and those lips—full and lush and currently pressed into a thin line of disapproval—make me imagine all sorts of deliciously inappropriate political scenarios.
And now she is storming into my execution ceremony, looking at me like I'm something she's scraped off her shoe.
How absolutely delightful.
"Lady Seraphina," I purr, not bothering to hide my amusement or the heat in my gaze as I deliberately look her up and down. "What an unexpected pleasure. Have you come to watch? I'm afraid we don't have any seats left, but I'd be happy to have you sit in my lap. For diplomatic reasons, of course."
"Release my brother," she demands.
Ah. Now this is interesting. I let my gaze slide to the prisoner—this Cassian—and note the family resemblance. Same golden eyes, same proud bearing, though his is considerably more diminished at the moment.
"Your brother?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "The same brother who turned my advisor into charcoal yesterday? That brother?"
"I'm here to negotiate for his release," Seraphina continues, lifting her chin in defiance even as her scent betrays her nervousness. The Omega in her recognizes the Alpha predator before her, even if her mind refuses to acknowledge it.
"Negotiate?" I drawl, returning my attention to her fully. My shadows coil around me possessively, already reaching toward her like they have a will of their own. "And what exactly do you have to offer in exchange for a life, little Omega?"
The word hangs in the air between us like a blade. Her eyes widen fractionally—the only sign that I've surprised her—but she doesn't deny it. Can't deny it, not when I can smell the truth beneath her suppressants.
"I am not—" she begins, but I cut her off with a gesture.
"Please don't insult my intelligence by lying about what we both know you are." I descend the remaining steps until I'm standing directly before her, close enough that my shadows can dance across her skin. "You've hidden it well, I'll grant you. Nine years on suppressants? Impressive. Most Omegas can't maintain that level of suppression without serious health consequences."
Her jaw tightens, fury and fear warring in her scent. "How did you?—"
"I've had eight hundred years to perfect my senses, Seraphina of House Lumina." I let her name roll off my tongue like a caress. "Your suppressants are excellent, but they're not perfect. Not to someone who knows what to look for."
I circle her slowly, noting the way she fights the instinct to bare her throat, to submit to the dominant Alpha in the room. Such delicious defiance. "So I'll ask again: what do you have to offer for your brother's life?"
"Name your price," she says through gritted teeth.
"My price?" I pretend to consider, though I already know exactly what I want. "Your brother killed my advisor. Under the old laws, that's a blood debt. Life for life, service for service."
"I'll serve in his place," Seraphina says immediately. "Whatever you require. I'll fulfill the blood debt."
