Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
MAYA
I stay as silent as possible while they finish breakfast, letting arguments about the Inquisitor interview and ribald comments about my heat cycle wash over me like background chatter.
I’d never been good at the meditation classes they offered at the Enclave.
Insisting that we learn the best practices for clearing our minds makes sense considering what the instructors must have known about what we would face as Omegas out in the world.
But now, the idea of completely emptying my mind is an attractive one.
The less I feel, the less likely that Logan or Cillian will pick up on my true intentions through the bond.
So, I breathe a sigh of relief when Logan departs first, muttering about needing to prepare for the Inquisitor’s visit.
Cillian follows at his heels, his rigid posture broadcasting his tension even without our bond connection.
He spares me a single glance as he walks by, but looks away the moment that our gazes meet.
Ares leaves a few minutes later with barely a nod in my direction, seeming lost in thought.
Relief washes over me. Finally, a moment to breathe without their overwhelming Alpha presences suffocating me. I push my barely touched plate away and stand, eager to retreat to somewhere—anywhere—I can be alone with my thoughts.
“Going somewhere?”
I freeze at Poe’s voice behind me. Great. The assassin stayed behind.
Turning slowly, I brace myself for another crude comment or insult. Poe has made it already made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t want me here. Doesn’t mean he can resist adding a little salt to the wound.
Dark eyes study me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm.
“Just back to bed,” I answer carefully, keeping my voice neutral.
Poe tilts his head, inky strands of hair seeming to absorb rather than reflect the light. “You look terrible.”
I blink, caught off guard by his bluntness. “Excuse me?”
“I said you look like shit. Like you’re about to pass out.” He steps closer, and I resist the urge to back away. “How do you feel?”
The question is so unexpected I can’t immediately form a response. Is this some kind of trick? A new angle to get under my skin?
“Why do you care?” I ask, unable to keep the suspicion from my voice.
“Contrary to what you might think, I’m not completely heartless.” Something flickers across his face—an emotion I can’t quite place. “You obviously went through a hell of a heat. If I didn’t see all this coming, then that almost certainly means you didn’t either. Must be a lot to process.”
I search his face for mockery but find none. The realization is unsettling. It’s easier when they’re all monsters through and through.
“I’m fine.”
He nods along with me, gaze still unwavering. “Then I have something to show you. You up for a field trip?”
“A field trip?” I can’t help the skeptical edge in my voice. “To where exactly?”
Poe’s expression remains unreadable, his scent of driftwood and sea salt giving away nothing of his intentions. “Nowhere important. But it might help you better understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
My instincts scream caution. This is the man who watches from shadows, who everyone whispers about when they think no one’s listening. The royal assassin.
“Why would you help me?” I ask, crossing my arms protectively over my chest. “You made it pretty clear at breakfast that you think I’m just a problem to be managed.”
“Did I?” His dark eyes narrow slightly. “Or did I just not rush to your defense while Ares was being an ass?”
I hesitate, replaying the breakfast conversation in my mind. He hadn’t actually joined in when Ares made his crude comments.
“Look,” Poe continues, “you can stay here and wallow like a prisoner in solitary confinement, or you can come with me and maybe learn something useful. Your choice.”
The word prisoner hits like a slap to the face. That’s exactly what this is, a beautiful prison with four permanent jailers. I’m surprised he even realizes this bond might not be my dream come true.
“Logan will know if I leave,” I say, absentmindedly reaching to touch my neck before catching myself and ripping my hand away. The damn bite pulses like a lure, its twin on my back echoing in a discordant rhythm.
Poe’s mouth quirks in what might almost be a smile. “Not if we’re quick. He’s in meetings all morning, and Cillian will be with him. They won’t notice a thing if we’re back within an hour.”
I shouldn’t trust him. I have absolutely no reason to. But the alternative is sitting alone in a room that doesn’t belong to me, waiting for my captors to return.
And if I want to sow discord between them, this might be an unexpected opportunity.”
“Fine,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. Get dressed and meet me at the door in five minutes.” Poe replies with a faint smirk. “Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”
I hurry back to Logan’s bedroom, my mind racing with suspicion and curiosity. What could Poe possibly want to show me? Is this a trap, or does he genuinely have information that might help me navigate this nightmare?
After digging through my wardrobe in Logan’s closet that is exclusively frilly confections of skirts and dresses, I abandon the fruitless search and help myself to Cillian’s small dresser instead.
He and I are close enough in size that I can manage a pair of his pants if I use a belt on the tightest notch and don’t mind tripping a bit over the legs that entirely cover my feet.
One of his shirts is long enough to almost hit my knees before I tuck it in, but the collar doesn’t fall off my shoulders like one borrowed from Logan, or another Alpha, would.
The dark pants and shirt aren’t fancy, nothing that screams my new status as bonded mate of a prince. Hopefully, Poe isn’t planning to take me anywhere that might matter.
Eventually, Logan and I will have an official bonding ceremony and be presented as mates to the entire court. The thought of it is enough to make my stomach turn.
Five minutes later, I meet Poe at the door as promised. His eyebrow quirks as he gives my outfit a quick once-over, but he eventually nods his approval.
“Follow me,” he says, turning on his heel without waiting for my response.
I trail behind him through the palace corridors, taking mental notes of our path so I don’t fixate on our possible destination.
We turn a corner and suddenly find ourselves in a busier section of the palace. Servants carrying linens and trays hustle past, guards stand at attention, and what I assume are courtiers drift by in expensive fabrics and glittering jewelry.
I instinctively lower my head, hoping to avoid attention. To my surprise, the opposite happens. As we pass, people stop what they’re doing. Servants pause mid-step. Guards straighten. Courtiers bow their heads respectfully.
At me.
I nearly trip over my own feet when I realize what’s happening.
“Everyone is watching me,” I whisper to Poe, unable to finish the question.
“You stink of that new bond.” Poe glances back at me, one eyebrow raised. “Not to mention, you’re wearing the royal crest around your neck. You’re officially a royal consort to the presumed heir to the throne. Did you think people wouldn’t notice?”
My hand flies to my neck where the silver pendant rests against my skin. The necklace I’d put on as a strategic concession this morning now feels like a brand marking me as property, just more visibly than the bites on my body.
“I didn’t realize it would be made official so quickly,” I murmur as we continue walking, more eyes following our progress.
A young woman in a maid’s uniform actually curtsies as we pass. “Your Highness,” she whispers, eyes downcast.
Your Highness. The words echo in my head like a cruel joke.
“Logan also didn’t waste any time,” Poe admits, pitching his voice lower. “The official announcement went out last night while you were...indisposed.”
Last night. While I was still recovering from a heat I never wanted, with a bond I never chose, Logan was already staking his claim publicly. Making sure everyone knew I belonged to him.
If only they all knew the actual truth.
If only these bowing courtiers and respectful servants understood that their precious prince isn’t even my primary bond. That I’m primarily bonded to another Omega—a male one, at that—a scandalous impossibility that would send shockwaves through the royal court if revealed.
A bitter laugh threatens to escape my throat. I wonder what they’d think of their golden prince then. Would they still bow and scrape if they knew the truth? Or would they look at me with disgust, with pity, with shock?
Would the truth even be enough to ruin him?
We turn down another corridor, this one less populated. Poe’s pace quickens, and I hurry to keep up.
“Almost there,” he says, leading me toward a service entrance I wouldn’t have noticed if not for him heading straight for it.
Poe pushes open the heavy door, revealing a narrow stairwell that spirals downward into darkness. He pulls out a small flashlight from his pocket and flicks it on, illuminating rough concrete steps that disappear into the shadows below.
“Watch your step,” he warns, starting his descent without waiting for my response.
I hesitate at the top of the stairs, my fingers curling around the cold metal railing. The dark, enclosed space sends a flutter of panic through my chest, reminding me too much of the basement room where Logan found Cillian and me during our shared heat. Where everything changed.
“You coming?” Poe calls up, his voice echoing against the concrete walls.
I take a deep breath and force myself to follow him down. “Where exactly are we going?”
“Somewhere we won’t be interrupted,” he answers cryptically, continuing downward.
The temperature drops with each step, and the air grows stale and damp. The concrete walls seem to close in around me, and I fight the urge to turn and run back up to the palace corridors. But curiosity pushes me forward.
If Poe is planning to kill me down here, at least I’ll be put out of my misery.
When we reach the bottom, Poe leads me through a heavy metal door that groans as he pushes it open. The smell hits me first. Metallic and sharp, with an underlying scent of something organic and decaying. My stomach turns as we step into a large, open room with high ceilings.
As my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, I take in the details of the room.
The floor is concrete, sloping slightly toward several drains positioned throughout the space.
Dark stains in the concrete surround each drain, old blood that never fully washed away.
Above us, metal hooks and implements hang from a complex system of rails in the ceiling, their edges gleaming dully in the low light.
This is a slaughtering floor.
“What is this place?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“The old butchery,” Poe says matter-of-factly. “Not used much anymore since they modernized the kitchens upstairs.”
My heart rate quickens, and I instinctively take a step back toward the door. “Poe, why are we here?”
Instead of answering, he moves deeper into the darkness.
A light clicks on, one of those industrial ones for work sites that illuminates a large circle in bright yellow.
At the very center, harsh light illuminating his bruised and battered features, sits a bound and gagged Alpha. What little is left of a guard uniform hangs in bloody strips around his hunched form.
I gasp aloud. “Who is this?”
Poe appears at my side, close enough to make me jump. He holds a knife the approximate length of his forearm, tilting the blade so light dances off its razor-sharp, metal surface.
“This is Darius, formerly a palace guard stationed at the southern gates,” Poe explains casually. “After reviewing security footage from the night of the palace attack, I’ve learned he was the one who let our attackers inside. I’ve had him locked down here for the last few days.”
The image should be a shocking one. All this blood and pain should be enough to make me instantly recoil.
Instead, I study the guard with dispassionate eyes as he meets my gaze with imploring eyes.
I only feel disgust at the thought that removing that stained gag from his mouth would only result in some useless begging.
“So why am I here?” I ask finally.
“This man is responsible for you almost getting kidnapped.” Poe flips the knife in his hands, managing to hold the blade without cutting himself as he offers me the hilt. “I thought you might be interested in helping me find out what he has to say.”