"Who asked you to escort me?" I kept my voice steady, neutral.
"His Highness Prince Silas, my lady." No hesitation, no deception in his scent or posture. "He anticipated you might require assistance and respite."
Of course he had. The prince who saw patterns where others saw only chaos would have calculated my disorientation, my aimless wandering after our encounter. Had he been watching me all this time through the eyes of his staff, tracking my movements through his palace?
I nodded once, not trusting my voice, and gestured for him to lead on.
He guided me through corridors that grew increasingly elegant, the marble floors inlaid with intricate patterns of gold and silver, the walls adorned with art whose value I couldn’t begin to estimate. We ascended a curved staircase that opened onto a hallway more intimate than the grand passages below… clearly private quarters rather than public spaces.
"The east wing houses royal guests of highest honor," the servant explained, though I hadn’t asked. "These particular chambers have been prepared specially for your comfort."
He stopped before a door of dark wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl in a pattern that suggested blooming flowers. With formal precision, he opened it and stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter first… a courtesy I’d never been shown in my life.
I crossed the threshold and stopped, overwhelmed.
The room before me was larger than Lady Morvane’s entire first floor, a space so generous it seemed to have its own atmosphere. Velvet drapes in deep plum framed windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, pulled back to reveal the night beyond. The bed… if such an inadequate word could describe the cloud-like expanse dominating one wall… was draped in linens so fine they seemed to float above the mattress. Pillows in various sizes and textures were arranged in inviting abundance, creating a suggestion of the nesting space omegas supposedly craved.
Thick rugs in jewel tones covered sections of the polished marble floor, their patterns echoing the inlaid details of the furniture… a writing desk, a dressing table, several comfortable chairs arranged near a fireplace where flames danced with welcoming warmth. The air carried subtle scents of jasmine and cedar, clean and calming without being overwhelming to my now-heightened senses.
It was beautiful. It was terrifying.
"Will there be anything else, my lady?" the servant asked from the doorway, careful not to enter without invitation.
I shook my head mutely, unable to find words adequate to the moment. He bowed and withdrew, closing the door softly behind him, leaving me alone in a luxury so complete it felt like another form of captivity.
I moved further into the room, slipping my tattered shoes off so my feet would sink into rugs that cushioned each step. My fingers trailed over surfaces polished to impossible smoothness… the back of a chair, the edge of a table, the cool marble of a small sculpture depicting three wolves running as one. Everything felt unreal, as if I’d stepped into someone else’s dream.
A quiet knock at the door startled me from my daze. I turned, instinctively tensing, half-expecting Lady Morvane to materialize and strip away this impossible moment.
"Yes?" I called, hating the tremor in my voice.
"May I enter?" A woman’s voice, soft and deferential. Not Lady Morvane. Not anyone I recognized.
For a moment, I stood frozen, the question itself so foreign I struggled to process it. No one had ever asked my permission to enter a space I occupied. No one had ever treated any space as mine to control.
"Yes," I said finally, the word feeling strange in my mouth, powerful in ways I’d never considered.
The door opened to reveal a woman perhaps a few years older than myself, her uniform similar to the male servant’s but tailored differently, marking her as female staff of equivalent rank. Beta by her scent… pleasant but neutral, carrying notes of lavender and clean linen. She carried herself with quiet efficiency, entering just far enough to offer a respectful bow before stopping, hands clasped before her, waiting.
I realized she was waiting for me to speak first, to give her direction. The reversal of every interaction I’d ever experienced left me momentarily speechless.
"I’ve been assigned as your personal aide, my lady," she offered when my silence stretched too long. "To help you settle in and attend to any needs you might have."
"I don’t..." I began, then stopped, unsure how to explain that I had no context for being served, for being attended to, for being treated as if my comfort mattered. "Thank you," I finished lamely.
She seemed to sense my discomfort, her expression softening slightly. "Perhaps you’d like to refresh yourself? I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a bath, if that would be welcome."
A bath. Not a quick scrubbing with cold water from a basin, but an actual bath. The luxury of it seemed impossible.
"Yes," I said, the word emerging as barely more than a whisper. "Thank you."
She led me through a door I hadn’t noticed, opening into a bathing chamber that stole what little breath I had left. A sunken tub of marble dominated the space, large enough to accommodate three or four people comfortably, already filled with steaming water. The surface was scattered with rose petals, their scent rising with the steam to fill the air with sweetness. Thick towels were stacked nearby, along with small bottles of oils and soaps.
"Would you prefer privacy, my lady, or assistance?" she asked, her tone making it clear either choice was acceptable.
I hesitated. I had never been bathed by another unless having ice water thrown at you and commands yelled counted… I had never experienced the care other omegas took for granted. Part of me recoiled at the vulnerability such assistance would require. Another part, a part awakening alongside everything else thesuppression breaker had revealed, longed for the connection, the gentle care that had been denied me for so long.
"Assistance," I said finally, surprising myself. "Please."
