Lucius
The carriage rattled over cobblestones, its windows drawn with thick drapes to shield from the outside gaze. Inside, the silence stretched thick between us. Nael sat across from me, arms folded, legs pulled slightly inward as if shrinking from the world. He hadn't spoken once since we left the Bastion.
Good. Silence suited him better than his usual defiance.
Still, I found my eyes drawn to him.
He looked… different. His posture was guarded, not weak. Like he was ready to run, even now. Even dressed in ceremonial black with silver embroidery tracing the collar—robes meant to quiet Council rumors—he didn't carry himself like an omega bred for obedience. He watched everything. Sharp. Mistrustful.
Not like Nael at all.
And that scent. Even now—bitter-sweet, sharp in the throat, but not revolting. It lingered in the air of the enclosed carriage like something alive. Something wrong.
I'd spent years building an empire on instinct. But with him?
I couldn't read a damn thing.
"We're almost there," I said finally, keeping my tone level. "Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't look at the Lord Archivist unless he addresses you directly. The rest, you can ignore."
Nael didn't respond. Just stared out the window, like he'd rather throw himself from the moving carriage than be here.
As expected.
The wheels slowed.
Outside, the Council Fortress loomed—white stone wrapped in climbing ivy, its towering spires gleaming beneath early dusk. Rows of black-armored guards stood at the base of the entrance steps. Every symbol of power was carved into the doors, the pillars, even the flagstones below. This was not a place for uncertainty.
This was where kingdoms were broken.
The moment the carriage stopped, I stepped out first.
Eyes met mine from across the courtyard—Council aides, record-keepers, and guards all bowing or stiffening to attention.
I didn't look at them.
I turned, extended my hand without thinking.
Nael hesitated, then finally took it.
His fingers were cold. But steady.
He stepped down, eyes scanning the fortress like a cornered animal. If he thought about running, he'd be caught before he crossed the second stair.
Still, the urge in him was there. I could feel it.
We walked through the great doors side by side, our steps echoing through the high-arched corridor. The floor beneath us shimmered—runes glowing faintly with each footfall, tracking bloodlines, authority, rank.
Only alpha kings and their bound could step past the final seal.
The guards stood aside.
Inside, the High Council waited—five robed figures seated at the Crescent Table, their faces mostly obscured by deep hoods, though I could feel their eyes watching.
Cold. Judgmental. Ready.
"Lucius Daren," came a voice from the middle. "We were told you brought the cursed-born omega. Where is he?"
I stepped aside. Let them see him.
Nael lifted his chin ever so slightly, but his eyes darted to me first—just for a second.
He was afraid.
But not broken.
Not yet.
And for reasons I still didn't understand, that unsettled me more than anything else.
Nael stood beside me in complete silence. His shoulders were tense, but his expression was unreadable. Either he was finally learning restraint—or the fear had settled so deep he no longer showed it.
I wasn't sure which unnerved me more.
The chamber felt colder than it had when I last stood in it. The high stone walls swallowed sound, lit only by floating lanterns that flickered overhead in soft silver hues. In the center of the Crescent Table sat the five: the High Seer, the Lord Archivist, the Head of Arms, the Lunar Voice, and Elder Mathys, who had long despised everything I represented.
Elder Mathys was the first to speak. "You bring the cursed-born to this court, yet your reports say he triggered no heat, no binding, and no alpha collapse. That contradicts everything the moon archives hold true."
"He repels most alphas," I said coolly. "They cannot bear to be near him."
"Yet you can," said the Lunar Voice, a pale woman draped in navy silk, her tone sharp but curious. "You suffer no reaction?"
"I do not."
Silence followed.
Nael's eyes flicked to the table. Smart. He didn't challenge them. Didn't speak unless addressed. Just as I instructed.
The Lord Archivist leaned forward, hands folded. "The curse is not merely scent-based. It's soul-deep. What compelled you to bring him to your stronghold? You risk everything."
"I didn't make the purchase blindly," I replied, keeping my tone measured. "He is rare. The council would have buried him under stone. I chose control over chaos."
"Control?" the High Seer rasped. "You cannot control the Oracle's child."
Nael stiffened.
So did I.
"Repeat that," I said.
The Seer raised her head. Her eyes were glassy white, the orbs of someone who hadn't seen the sun in years—but she looked straight at Nael like she could read every fractured memory in his bones.
"He is the one from the vision," she murmured. "The soul displaced. The bond unwritten. Not of this world, yet meant to decide its fate."
I clenched my jaw. "That sounds like superstition."
"It is prophecy," the Seer countered. "He walks in skin that doesn't belong to him, yet bears power that no omega should hold."
I didn't glance at Nael, but I could feel the shift in him beside me—like a ripple of static energy under his skin.
"Who was the last to handle him?" the Head of Arms asked suddenly. "After his collapse."
"I did," I said flatly. "He was carried to my quarters and seen by healers."
"You kissed him," said Elder Mathys, eyes narrowing.
Every head turned.
My spine stiffened. "I acted in a moment of irrational concern."
Mathys leaned back, smug. "How curious, for a king so rational to become… irrational over a cursed-born."
Nael exhaled shakily. I didn't look at him.
"You've heard our doubts," the Archivist said after a long pause. "Until further analysis, the omega remains under your custody. But if the curse unfolds in your halls, Lucius Daren, know this: we will not bury the fallout."
"I accept the terms," I said without hesitation.
"Very well. You are dismissed."
I turned without waiting for more and started walking. Nael followed quietly, not speaking until we were outside the Council chamber.
He glanced sideways at me. "...Oracle's child?"
I didn't answer.
Because I wasn't sure anymore if they were wrong.