You were never meant for one.
The words settled in my chest with strange familiarity, like a key fitting a lock I hadn’t known existed. Something about them resonated with the restlessness that had lived beneath my skin for as long as I could remember, the sense that I was somehow wrong, somehow different, not just defective but fundamentally other.
What if Lady Morvane had lied? Not just about my status or my past, but about the nature of my being itself?
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it kindled a dangerous warmth that spread from the center of my chest to the tips of my fingers. Possibility. Choice. The chance to discover truth, even if that truth destroyed me.
I pushed away from the wall and made my way back to the mouth of the alley, steps steadier now, purpose replacing panic. Off to the apothecary. Soon, Lady Morvane would wait for my command. For perhaps the first time since my mother’sdeath, I felt the shape of my own power forming, nebulous and uncertain, but undeniably mine.
CHAPTER 5
Lady Morvane’s study door loomed before me, the polished wood reflecting lamplight in distorted patterns that seemed to shift and breathe with my hesitation. The vial pressed against my thigh through the hidden pocket of my dress, unnaturally warm, as if it contained not liquid but something alive. I balanced the apothecary’s package in my trembling hands, a brown paper parcel containing the very substances that had kept me prisoner for years, and tried to ignore the terrible irony. Here I stood, delivering the tools of my own captivity, while the means of my liberation burned against my skin like a brand.
I knocked, three measured taps that I’d perfected over years… enough to be heard, not enough to irritate.
"Enter." Lady Morvane’s voice cut through the heavy oak, precise as a blade.
She sat at her desk, ledgers spread before her like battle plans, each page filled with careful notations of debts and favors, the true currency of her power. Her eyes flicked up as I approached, a swift assessment that searched for signs of disobedience or delay.
"You were gone longer than instructed." Not a question, an accusation.
"The apothecary had a line," I said, keeping my voice flat, my eyes properly lowered. "I didn’t want to draw attention by pushing forward."
A plausible lie. The right kind of lie… one that played to her fears of exposure, of my being noticed. She extended her hand, palm up, impatience in every line of her body. I placed the package in it, careful not to let our fingers touch.
"Was there any... incident?" she asked, already unwrapping the parcel, checking its contents against some internal inventory. I refused to admit I got turned around trying to find the manor. Though I wondered why she'd allowed me to walk alone. She didn't take me out often, but never left me alone.
"No, Lady Morvane." I kept my breathing even despite the heat of the vial against my leg, despite the way my heart hammered against my ribs. "No one spoke to me."
The strange woman in the alley didn’t count as "anyone" in Lady Morvane’s world. Unnamed people in the shadows like her weren’t real to people like my stepmother. They were rumors, ghost stories, boogeyman tales to frighten proper omegas into obedience.
Lady Morvane nodded once, satisfied with my answer and the package’s contents. "Good. Go to your quarters and stay there until summoned. With the preparations for the Convergence, I can’t afford to have you wandering about."
"The Convergence is tonight?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Her eyes narrowed at the question—at the fact that I’d asked anything at all. Questions weren’t permitted. Questions meant curiosity, and curiosity was dangerous in an omega, especially one already considered defective.
"That’s none of your concern," she said, voice cooling further. "You’ll remain hidden during the event. The last thing I need is for someone to notice you and start asking questions about why a defective omega of marriageable age isn’t being presented."
I bowed my head in acknowledgment, the proper response of a chastised servant, while inside, pieces clicked into place with terrible clarity. Tonight. The Royal Convergence was tonight. The woman in the alley had known—had timed her intervention precisely, giving me the vial on the very day it would be most useful... or most dangerous. Maybe the doctor wouldn't come tonight due to the event.
"You may go," Lady Morvane said, attention already returning to her ledgers. "And Nyx? Take another dose of suppressant before you retire. Your scent seems... unstable."
My blood ran cold. Could she smell a change already? The suppressant breaker couldn’t be working yet… I hadn’t even put it on. But something about my encounter in the alley, about the decision forming in my mind, must have affected my body’s chemistry. Fear, perhaps. Or hope. Both equally treacherous.
"Yes, Lady Morvane." I backed toward the door, keeping my movements measured, predictable.
The corridor outside felt both too exposed and too confined, the walls pressing close while servants bustled past, all focused on preparations for the night’s event. No one looked at me. No one ever did. I was furniture, a ghost, a thing meant to blend into corners and shadows. The irony was that Lady Morvane had worked so hard to make me invisible that no one would notice if I suddenly disappeared.
I made my way toward the main staircase, intending to retreat to my attic room as instructed, when voices drifted from the grand salon—Vella’s high, nervous tones and the measured cadence of the omega trainer Lady Morvane had hired for theoccasion. Curiosity pulled me toward the partially open door, my feet moving without conscious thought.
Through the gap, I saw my stepsister standing on a small platform, arms extended as the trainer circled her like a predator assessing prey. Vella wore a gown of palest blue, the color of early morning sky, cut to emphasize the delicate curve of her shoulders, the slenderness of her waist. Beautiful, by any standard. Perfect, in the way omegas were meant to be.
"No, no, no." The trainer clicked her tongue, adjusting Vella’s posture with sharp jabs of her fingers. "When you enter the presence of an Alpha, especially a royal Alpha, your body must communicate submission without appearing weak. Strength contained, not strength absent. Try again."
Vella shifted, lowering her eyes while simultaneously lifting her chin, creating a line that emphasized the vulnerable curve of her neck. The trainer nodded approvingly.
"Better. Now the walk."
