Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Ren tasted blood. It was a familiar sensation on his tongue at this point, which made him ponder for a moment before he looked down at his hand. He had chewed his nail too far down and dark, red drops were pooling at his cuticle.
He frowned—not at the blood itself, but that his gnawing, and the slight pain, hadn’t even helped. His hands still shook.
His nerves hadn’t been helped by the fact he hadn’t seen Falk for days. The Alpha had been around less and less ever since the night of the Blood Moon.
Ren didn’t know why he had decided to believe Falk—why he had decided to trust him. But he had, which is how he ended up back down in the cold basement of the castle, bars encasing him in his prison.
Ren didn’t want to think about Falk—didn’t want to think about how worried his eyes looked every time he did come down to see him, how much he reassured him with that soft voice he only ever used with Ren. He didn’t want to think about him or the Blood Moon or the following morning.
His stomach twisted every time he remembered waking up with Falk’s warm body pressed along his back, his strong arms wrapped around his waist so tightly Ren swore he could still feel the phantom press of them.
But this was different from the nerves he normally had—rather than the slow churn of dread, it felt like something was trying to eat its way out of his stomach lining every time he remembered.
How pathetic it was that just one soft moment with an Alpha had made Ren almost sick to his stomach with butterflies.
He’d had Alphas interested in him, even well before he was of age to be courted. But Ren didn’t truly know what it was like to have a crush. Every time Omegas spoke about it, it sounded simply like their biology made them lustful and horny. Ren never felt that—not about anyone.
Ren smacked himself in the head as his thoughts trailed to Falk’s words about not letting him die in this prison cell, asking Ren to trust him.
He wanted to believe Falk so badly, to the point his mind kept believing it was real.
He couldn’t help the thoughts of truly living in the castle, of the fact his birthday was soon, of the fact Falk could court him in a few short weeks?—
He shook his head again, shoving it all away.
First, he had to make it through the retrial; his fate was in their new King’s hands.
The only thing that made him different from the other prisoners who had already been retried and thrown back into their cells was that Falk was a close friend of their King.
Ren had asked Falk once how they knew each other, and he had shrugged, smiled and answered with the simple few words, “From Warrior training.”
Ren flinched at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, pulling his bloody skin away from his lips.
He cowered back further against the wall. Every time someone came down nowadays, it was a Warrior whisking someone away for their retrial.
Ren wasn’t ready.
He wanted to get out, but he didn’t know if his heart or mind could handle a verdict right now. He didn’t trust himself not to break, considering this was the last chance he had to change his sentence.
When Falk appeared a second later, his eyes were wide when he wrapped his hands around the bars. “Ren? Are you okay?”
Ren peered back at him but nodded slowly. “Are you… here to take me to my retrial?”
Falk shook his head once, “No, not yet.”
Ren deflated, his tense body finally relaxing. He got to his feet, trailing over to Falk. He kept his gaze down, but reached up to fold his hand over the bar as well. Their fingers a breath apart, but Ren didn’t know how to breach the gap. “Is it soon?”
Falk paused before asking, “Do you really want to know?”
Ren gripped harder, trying not to let Falk see how his fingers trembled. The Alpha could already read him so clearly, he didn’t want to give anymore of himself away. “Yes,” he said after a second.
“It’ll be tomorrow,” Falk said, voice pitched low.
Ren’s heart stopped beating, his gut falling to his feet. “Tomorrow?” he whispered. Falk nodded and Ren couldn’t read the expression on his face. He asked, “Will you be the one taking me to it?”
“Of course,” Falk said. The corners of his lips quirked up, “I am your guard, aren’t I?”
“Yes, I guess you are,” Ren hummed, pursing his lips.
Ren flinched when Falk’s hand brushed against his own. He pulled back, his skin burned by the touch, as he averted his gaze. He didn’t want to see Falk’s hurt expression.
“I told you to trust me,” Falk murmured.
“Yeah, I do,” Ren said. “That’s why I’m here right now.”
Falk hesitated a moment, as though he wanted to say something else, before pulling away from the bars and moving to sit down in his chair. Ren took a long, shaky breath, before turning to sit on his mattress again. He pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face there, to wait for tomorrow.
Ren didn’t sleep for even a moment between the time Falk told him when his trial would be and when Falk appeared to take him away. He was exhausted, bruises formed beneath his eyes, sore as he squinted up at Falk.
Falk was wearing the expression he always wore when he was being Warrior Falk rather than his Falk. His face was cold as he inserted the key into Ren’s door. The creak rang too loud in Ren’s ears.
He noticed another Alpha standing beside Falk only when he got to his feet. He eyed the man while Falk settled the cuffs on his wrists again—a weight he hadn’t missed.
Ren hissed, scowling when Falk tightened the cuffs just shy of painful. He glared at him, but Falk refused to look at him. Ren knew Falk was trying not to show favoritism, but he felt a panicked sob forming in his chest at the icy treatment.
Ren almost stumbled at how hard Falk jerked him forward, ignoring Ren’s startled look.
“Such a tiny thing,” the other Alpha scoffed as he fell into step behind Ren, talking over his head to Falk. Ren hated when the Alphas spoke about him like he wasn’t even there. “I can’t believe this is the guy who has caused so many issues.”
“Do not underestimate him,” Falk said, voice stern.
“He’s just an Omega. What’s he going to do?” The Alpha laughed.
“He murdered five Alphas. What do you think he could do?” Falk asked, glancing over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised.
Ren stayed quiet, deciding to behave rather than speak up. He blamed it on how his stomach was twisting itself into knots.
The walk was the same as the first time he went to trial, long and winding until they arrived at the large, black doors that loomed over them like an omen.
“Ready?”
Ren jumped at the whisper. Falk was watching the other Alpha moving to open the door. Ren thought he heard wrong—had been imaging Falk’s voice—before Falk’s hand moved, so slowly, to brush against his own.
“Not really,” Ren whispered back.
“Trust me.”
Ren peered up at him, “I do.”
The door groaned open, slowly revealing the throne room within.
Ren tried to keep his breathing under control, but by the time they stepped forward, his chest was rising and falling rapidly with heaving breaths.
Panic settled into his bones, his hands shook.
The stark memories of the last time he was in here ripped through his mind.
He kept hearing the King’s words over and over again, sentencing him to death and then to life in prison.
He couldn’t imagine the new King saying anything different.
Oren looked much more like a king sitting up on his throne, a scowl on his face, with the traditional, black and red robes of royalty.
He seemed larger up there too. But anyone would look massive when raised a dozen feet up in the air.
His gold throne was massive, with a silver one beside it, empty without a queen.
Ren only halted when Falk tugged lightly on his chains. His feet wanted to carry him straight up the steps to glare Oren in the face, or perhaps grovel at his feet to ask for mercy. Ren glanced over at Falk, settling beside him and trying to stand with his shoulders back and spine straight.
Oren slowly leaned forward in his seat, hands clasped and pressed to his chin. He examined Ren like a child would a bug in a jar, and it made Ren twitchy under such a harsh gaze. “Ren,” Oren said slowly after a few long heartbeats.
Ren bowed his head, but didn’t take his eyes off of Oren’s.
“I have brought you in here today to discuss your sentence,” Oren began.
His tone was a calm drawl as though he was talking about something unimportant.
“After hearing your case, my father sentenced you to life in prison. But as you know, I am the new king of these lands. And I will be deciding on your sentence myself.”
Ren said nothing, teeth grinding together. He didn’t want to say anything and get in trouble for it, so he patiently waited for Oren to continue.
“You were convicted for the murder of five Alphas,” Oren said.
“We had accounts from Warriors stating the extensive evidence against you, but…” Oren trailed off, considering for a moment.
“Our doctor here has also discussed your case with me, arguing you are not mentally well, that you had a psychotic breakdown which is what caused you to do what you did.” Oren waved a hand motioning to Ren.
“I am willing to hear your side of this story.”
Ren’s heart stopped in his chest. He had to swallow hard, breath shaky, to get the lump off of his vocal cords so he could speak. “My side?” he repeated, voice no more than a whisper.
Falk shifted beside him, moving a bit closer to him. His presence was a comforting weight beside him.
Ren shut his eyes for a moment, and decided to actually tell the truth.
“I… had my first heat,” he started slowly.
“And I was attacked during it by a group of Alphas who took advantage of my… state.” He licked his lips which were already dried and cracking, but his tongue was like sand in his mouth.
“They… they were never punished by the Warrior guards in my village even after I reported it. Nothing was done and I?—”