The servant hurried away. The other groundskeeping servants who had overheard kept their heads down, not wanting to draw my ire. Good. At least they were smart enough to keep their mouths shut.
Fuming at the servant’s unspoken insinuation, I walked alone through the garden until I passed the wrought-iron bars of the kennels. I paused. It was divided into two sections: one for the guard dogs, the other for the Gracehounds. Though the kennels were largely soundproofed, I still heard the muffled excited barking of the guard dogs. The Gracehounds were silent. They knew they didn’t need to bark their fool heads off for my attention.
Still buzzing with irritation, I stepped inside the Gracehound kennel. The tidy kennel was lined with elegant dogs of varying muted colors. There were solid hounds of white, cream, and grey, and a few pale brindled coats. They wagged their thin, feathery tails, and few stuck their narrow heads out towards me as I passed, but none made a commotion.
It didn’t matter if they were acquired as pups or adults—every single Gracehound had a stubborn streak. A heavy hand could not be used. Gracehounds knew when they were being treated unfairly, and refused to deal with you. But a hand that was too soft was ignored, dismissed as unworthy. Training a Gracehound was a challenge that took a level of patience and skill, but the reward was worth it.
That was why I’d been the one to train every single Gracehound in our possession.
Elian liked the dumb loyalty of the guard dogs. Cecil liked the guard dogs as well as the toy-like lapdogs.
But the Gracehounds were mine.
I found one of my favorites, a grey-blue female named Marianne. Each kennel had its own hook for each dog’s custom-made equipment. Marianne’s lead was supple white leather with her name hand-embroidered into the side. I slipped lead over her head and took her out into the garden. We walked all the way to the gate, where a gatekeeper servant asked, a bit nervously, “Are you going out, Your Highness?”
I knew then there was no formal order to prevent me from leaving the palace grounds. If my father wanted me to stay put, he should have done a better job of it.
“It appears so,” I said. “I am going for a walk with my hound, and I am not to be disturbed.”
Still, the servant hesitated. “Yes, of course. But in case of an emergency—”
Always with the hypothetical emergencies. I sighed impatiently, cutting her off, and gestured to the aviary. “In case of an emergency, send a messenger falcon. Open the gate.”
“Y-yes, Your Highness.”
The gate was opened. Finally. With Marianne at my heels, I left the palace grounds.
A sprawling view of the kingdom spread out before me. Lacehaven palace sat nicely on top, higher than the rest of the streets and buildings, as if even the earth knew to elevate us. Beyond the gate was a white marble staircase that led down into the upper quarter, where minor nobility resided. Dukes, counts, viscounts and barons, along with the highest-ranked knights.
A frown crept over my lips. I’d meant to escape thoughts of my upcoming viewing, but instead I’d inadvertently walked right into a fog of it. The pedigreed alphas that were chosen for me would all be sons of these minor nobles. This was their den, their… breeding ground.
I shivered. The thought of giving birth to an alpha repelled me, but thankfully, alphas did not run in our bloodline. When impregnated through an alpha donor, Lacehaven omegas could only give birth to more omegas; and since betas could only breed and produce more betas, that was another thing I didn’t have to worry about.
But the tinny, infuriating words of that groundskeeping servant still rung in my ears. How dare he suggest his prince couldevergive birth to an alpha? The more I stewed on it, the more I wanted to fire him as soon as I returned home.
I walked, hurrying but trying not to appear that way, through the streets of the Upper Quarter. I also forced the frown off my lips and instead put on my best resting prince face.
People noticed me, of course. It was impossible for them not to. Even if I didn’t sport the telltale grey-blue hair that was associated with Lacehaven blood, my prince’s clothes and radiating beauty got the point across. The only thing that would have made it more obvious is if I wore the traditional prince’s fertility circlet, but that would only be crowned upon my head when my pregnancy was confirmed.
I really need to go someplace that doesn’t remind me of the viewing…
I gave half-smiles and slight handwaves to people who bowed or cried “Prince Sebastian, Your Highness, it’s an honor!” at my passing by just to acknowledge their existence without actually wasting my time by stopping to address them.
I strolled until I reached the upper quarter’s lookout courtyard, then paused. A fountain in the center depicted the God of Fertility. Elian had always jokingly said the god looked like both a beauty and a beast, and to be honest, he wasn’t wrong. The God of Fertility was said to be the original omega. He stood upright like a man but had a wolf’s head and tail. His raised hands were human, but his strong haunches ended in wolf paws. Between his legs was an omega’s cock—tastefully flaccid, of course—but along his chest and abdomen were a set of multiple nipples.
It was a fanciful design and a well-crafted statue. But I was very glad I did not have a wolf’s head or teats taking up my entire front.
Coins glittered in the water surrounded the God of Fertility. Omegas and betas liked to toss them in as a kind of offering, for good luck during their pregnancies.
I walked past the fountain to lean on the courtyard railing while Marianne sat primly beside me. Below was the vast middle quarter, where the majority of our people lived, and at the very bottom sat the dingy lower quarter. I had never set foot in either of them. The last inch of the upper quarter was the boundary of my world.
I sighed. People in the middle and lower quarters probably never had to worry aboutviewings.
Marianne suddenly sat up, jingling her lead. At the same time, I heard a commotion brewing somewhere behind me. I turned to see a pair of knights haranguing some kind of minor omega noble. They spoke in a commanding, scolding tone while the omega argued back. People standing a safe distance away were starting to stare.
But that wasn’t all. I realized that the knights were not just arguing with the omega, but an alpha as well.
The alpha was not the son nobility. That much was clear right away. He stood out like a sore thumb. An eyesore. There was no air of sophistication or aristocracy about him. He was dressed in plain clothes, and his hair mussed up, which was either a sign of bad grooming or a very recent bed-related activity.
