No. This is my worst nightmare come true. “Quadruple the number of magicians researching it. There has to be a cure. We will find it.”
“At once, Your Majesty.”
I end the communication, my head spinning. The Red Death has returned. And if people are relapsing, there’s a chance my medicine will no longer help them. Damn the Stone King and his evil magic… tormenting us even after his death.
A small orb displays a copy of my parents’ portrait on my desk. Even here, my father’s eyes are on me, reminding me of his last words to me.
When I am gone, you must take my place as king. Work every day to prove yourself worthy. Rule well, my son.
I wonder what he would do if he’d known the Red Death would come again? Would he have made the same choices, knowing his sacrifice would be in vain?
I flick my fingers and the orb goes dark. My parents’ image disappears.
I long to see Rose but I have work to do. I tried to cure the curse, so far I have failed. But I cannot stop trying. The fate of the kingdom rests in my hands, even if I am unworthy to rule them.
* * *
Rose
I'm in my study, which is now my favorite place in the palace. It helps that everything here is a little closer to my size. I feel less like Goldilocks.
Bestian has been incredibly busy lately, too busy to spend time with me. At first, I thought he was giving me a chance to recover from my last, draining cycle of estrus, but now it’s been days since we spent any quality time together. At night, I go to sleep alone, in the morning, I wake up with a still-warm, Bestian sized-dent in the bed beside me. I know he holds me while I sleep, which soothes me somewhat. He hasn’t completely abandoned me. I should be grateful for the reprieve, but it’s left me wanting. I never thought I’d miss his overbearing presence, but I do. When I encouraged him to be more of a king, I didn’t expect him to go from one extreme to the other.
Be careful what you wish for, as they say.
In the meantime, I’ve been settling in. Learning the castle, making the study my own. Thewhispshelped me change out some of the decor. The lava lamp one of the human Omega queens sent me sits in a corner.
What a weird, random-ass gift. Bestian seemed to think the lava lamp was a symbolic gesture. He acted like I’d know what human custom Kim was following. The only thing I can come up with is that this Kim lady wants to get high with me and listen to the Dark Side of the Moon album backwards.
Which is fair. I don’t miss a ton about Earth, but I’m still keen to hang with another human. So far, Bestian’s been too busy to arrange it.
There’s a rush and awhispdeposits a fresh stand of sweet cakes beside me. Thewhispshave taken delight in making the dessert in all sorts of different flavors, to see what I like best. The three plates hold cakes in bright pink, velvety black, and acid green. I'm not sure what the hell sort of fruits or berries or nuts create those colors, but the hot pink one is very good.
I’ve been reading the history of Omegas, and it’s fascinating. My favorite treatise is the one written by an Omega healer who worked in one of the convents. When Omega birth rates plunged, the Kings’ Council decided to sequester Omegas in hidden, hard-to-reach fortresses, and instituted a lottery. The Omegas were hurried away to the fortresses as soon as they reached sexual maturity, and were kept there until they were assigned a mate—usually a high-ranking Alpha, a king, or a head warrior who could breed more sons.
Bestian told me the convents were real. At one point during his father’s reign, Alpha warriors stormed them in defiance of the lottery. But they found them empty. The Omegas and their Beta guards had all disappeared.
It’s fascinating history, and it's also giving me a knowledge of herbal lore. There are whole chapters on what herbs and nutrients are best for Omegas, to support their estrus cycles, increase fertility, ease pregnancy ailments, and so on. Ma would love it. I haven't yet asked to talk to her again, but I will soon.
“Hello?” An unseen voice makes me jump. Someone is speaking in the corner of this room. It continues in a nasal American accent, “Can you hear me now?”
I leap to my feet. Thewhispswhip around me. “What is that? Where is it coming from?”
There’s a squawk like from a radio, and the voice says, “Emma? Emma! You’re on mute.”
“I’m not,” another voice answers. This one has a softer, more distinguished tone. Sounds British. God, it’s so good to hear my native language being spoken again without that stupid translator chip dubbing everything. I bite my lip.
“Your picture’s off,” the American replies. It’s a small, tinny sound, and the speaker sounds female. “Can you hear me? You’re on mute again.”
The voices are coming from the lava lamp. I approach it.
“Hello?” I call. “Is someone there?”
“Kim, are you sure this is going to work?” Miss British accent—Emma—inquires.
I tip my head towards the lamp. “Hello? Can you hear me?”
“Shhh,” Kim says. “I think I can hear her. Hello? Human?”
