Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Am I the only one?”
The question was quiet. Said so quietly as if afraid to voice the words, afraid of the answer.
Malric and I exchanged a look. The honest answer was that we didn’t know—that the rebellion’s intelligence suggested there might be others in hiding. We knew omegas existed in the Seelie territories, where the borders had sealed. There may have been omegas in our own territory, but the king had been ruthless in hunting down omegas and protecting them.
“We don’t know,” I said. “The rebellion has reason to believe you’re not the last. But we can’t tell you anything certain.”
She nodded once, absorbing that.
“What happens to me now?” she said. “If the suppressants keep failing, what will happen next?”
“The spike will be followed by others,” I said. “More frequent, more intense, as the suppression degrades further. Until a fullheat.” I paused. “A full heat requires—it requires an alpha. Or alphas. To complete it. Without that, the heat becomes painful and—” I chose the next word carefully. “Difficult for the omega.”
Her eyes met mine. “How long?”
“Before the suppressants fail entirely?” I looked at Malric.
“Days,” he said. “A week, perhaps, given the extent of the binding work. But the spikes will come faster now that the first has broken through.”
She looked at the cup in her hands. The steam had faded, the liquid cooled while we talked. Her expression was the blankness of someone processing something too large and choosing instead to focus on smaller parts.
“He knew this would happen,” she said. Not a question.
“If an unmated alpha came,” I said. “Yes. He built the tower to contain you. He chose the isolation to prevent them from being tested.” I paused. “He didn’t account for the tower opening.”
“He didn’t account for a lot of things,” Malric said quietly.
Aveline looked at him. He held her gaze without looking away, without the cold assessing quality from the night before. Something in his expression was simply present in a way it had not been earlier.
She looked back at her cup.
“I need to think,” she said.
“Of course,” I said.
“That doesn’t mean—” She stopped, then started again. “I’m not asking you to leave.”
The distinction mattered. A fragile trust was forming. Maybe.
Chapter Eight
AVELINE
Ididn't speak for a long while.
The word omega lingered inside me, heavy and slow, as though it had been waiting for years to surface and was now finding its place inside of me. The sensation was a peculiar blend of the unfamiliar and the deeply known, reminiscent of a forgotten name I’d been forbidden to remember.
The dining chamber stretched around us in quiet stone arcs, the magical sconces casting steady light that left the upper reaches in shadow. The table under my hands was firm and tangible. The rest seemed less definite.
The plate in front of me was laden with food, though I couldn't imagine eating. Steam curled gently from the dishes, carrying scents that made my stomach rumble. Yet a part of me rejected all of it. I remained uneasy, agitated, and tense. Everything pressed too close, suffocating me.
I lifted my cup, aware of the slight tremor in my hand, and took a sip of the willow bark tea that Malric had brought me. It was warm and soothing, helping to ease the tension that gripped me even now. My body needed fuel, but I stared at the food in front of me, unsure if I could stomach it.
The chair beside me scraped against the stone floor. The sound made me flinch before I could stop myself. A large body settled into the space, heat and solid muscle crowding my side.
Malric.
“You need to eat,” he said. No impatience. No edge. Just fact. “The heat takes a lot out of an omega. You may not feel like it, but you need food.”
