Chapter 14 #2
“The immediate concern is maintaining order,” Leopold continues, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Civil unrest would devastate our position before any external threat materializes. We need to keep the population calm and distracted.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
“I’ve arranged for a grand tourney to follow the announcement of your position as heir.
Nothing distracts the masses like spectacle and bloodsport.
” His eyes glitter with calculated amusement.
“The Great Houses will send their champions, and the festivities will provide ample opportunity to gauge their true loyalties.”
I nod, my mind already working through military contingencies. “We should recall the reserve units stationed in the Outlands. Begin training maneuvers with our wider forces, but frame it as preparation for the tourney’s military exhibitions.”
“A prudent suggestion.” He murmurs, obviously pleased. His approval feels bestowed like a rare gift. “I’ve always respected your abilities as a military strategist, Logan. It’s one of the reasons I’ve chosen you over your brothers.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I reply, the formality a shield against the unexpected praise. “But war will not create new Omegas. It will only deplete what few we have.”
Leopold sets his empty glass down with a decisive click.
“I have other plans for solving that persistently frustrating problem. My father and his couldn’t fix it, but I will.
” His expression darkens. “There are specialists making remarkable progress as we speak. Sometimes solutions require...unconventional approaches. Alphas need Omegas, and they need us. The biological imperative is more important than any other consideration. Be happy you’ve found yours so easily. ”
The chill that runs down my spine has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. There’s something in my father’s tone that suggests knowledge beyond what he’s sharing—something that makes me think of Maya, of Cillian, of the bonds that tie us together.
I fully intend to press him for more information, when he cuts me off.
“You’re dismissed,” he says abruptly. “Return to your duties. The announcement ceremony is in three days. I expect you and your Omega to be appropriately prepared.”
I rise and bow, the perfect picture of filial obedience. But as I walk from the throne room, dread settles in my stomach like a stone. My father’s words about Dr. Thane echo in my mind, carrying implications I dare not examine too closely.
Whatever plans he has for solving our Omega shortage, I’m certain they will come at a terrible price—one that may already involve those closest to me.
I push open the door to the apartment, mind still reeling from my father’s revelations. The sound of laughter hits me first. Genuine, uninhibited laughter that seems out of place in these rooms that have lately held nothing but tension.
The scene before me is unexpected. They’re gathered around the dining table, plates half-empty, wine glasses in various states of fullness.
Maya sits beside Cillian, their heads bent so close together they nearly touch, shoulders brushing as she whispers something that makes him smile.
Across from them, Ares leans back in his chair, relaxed in a way I rarely see him, while Poe…
Poe. Is. Laughing.
Guffawing, even.
Not the haughty snorts or single surprised chortle that is all I’ve ever heard from him before.
True, uninhibited laughter. The sound is so foreign that I pause in the doorway.
In all our years together, I can’t recall ever hearing Poe truly laugh.
His usual expressions range from stoic vigilance to sardonic amusement, but this uninhibited sound is something entirely new.
I’m pretty sure I fucking hate it. If just because, my first thought is that I want to know just what he finds so damn funny.
Maybe it’s the glare I already know is on my face, but Poe is the first to sense me staring.
His laughter cuts off abruptly as his eyes meet mine.
The others follow his gaze, and the easy atmosphere evaporates instantly.
Maya straightens, putting deliberate space between herself and Cillian.
Ares shifts into a more formal posture. The warmth I glimpsed dissolves into watchful silence.
Something sharp and petty twists in my chest. They were enjoying themselves in a way I’ve never seen before, without me.
What the hell is so damn entertaining?
“Don’t stop on my account,” I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “You all seem to be having quite the evening.”
No one responds. Maya’s fingers toy with the stem of her wine glass, her eyes carefully avoiding mine. Cillian clears his throat but says nothing.
The silence grates against my already frayed nerves.
My father’s warnings about war, his cryptic comments about an unconventional approach to the Omega shortage, the looming responsibility of becoming heir.
All of it swirls in my mind, demanding attention.
And here they are, laughing together while I shoulder the burdens alone.
“I met with the king today,” I announce, cutting through the awkward silence with deliberate bluntness. “I’m to be named heir to the throne at the next council meeting.”
The words land with the impact I intended. Ares straightens further, immediately alert. Poe’s expression shifts to careful neutrality. Cillian’s eyes widen slightly before his features compose themselves.
Only Maya’s reaction is unexpected—a flash of calculation crosses her face before she masks it with an appropriate look of surprise and a detached smile.
“That is significant news,” Cillian finally says, his voice carefully measured.
“Congratulations,” Ares, holding up his glass. Poe quickly echoes the sentiment.
“Indeed,” I reply, moving further into the room. “It seems my father has decided I’m the most suitable choice to lead Melilla through its coming challenges.”
“Sounds like we should celebrate,” Poe offers, though his tone is more questioning than enthusiastic.
I lock eyes with Maya, who still hasn’t spoken. “The ceremony will be followed by a grand tourney. As my Omega, you’ll be expected to play a central role in the festivities.”
She nods, her expression unreadable. “Of course. Whatever is required of me.”
Her compliance should please me, but instead, it rings hollow. The distance between us feels even wider than the physical space separating us across the room.
“Well,” Ares says, raising his glass. “To the future king.”
The others lift their glasses in a toast, and I don’t miss the way that Maya drains her glass to the dregs. I force a smile, but the earlier resentment lingers. Whatever looseness they shared before I arrived has vanished, replaced by the familiar tension that seems to define us now.
As I take my place at the head of the table, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve truly won anything at all.
Maya leans closer and murmurs something too low for me to hear.
Instinctively, I loop a foot around the leg of her chair and yank it closer with a loud screech of wood on the marble floor. “What was that?”
Maya stiffens, eyes flashing with anger despite the expression of practiced indifference on her face. You would think she’d be more excited about the news that her head is destined for a crown.
I can sense the distant feelings of resolve and resignation through the bond. A crown—and the security that comes with it—has to be the ultimate reason why she showed up back here at all. Social-climbing bitch that she is.
“I was just saying that this new role must come with increased responsibility.” She cuts her eyes at Cillian for the briefest moment before looking away. “And increased attention. The eyes of the entire realm will be on you now.”
I stroke my knuckle down her cheek, smiling when she stiffens. “I think you mean us. It’s what you’ve been so well-trained for, after all.”
“Speaking of us…” Her voice is honey-sweet, but her expression remains watchful. “We’ve barely had time to adjust to our arrangement as it is. This is going to be a lot of added pressure.”
“Does that mean you’re not happy at the news? I thought every little girl dreamed of someday becoming a queen.”
“No one dreams of becoming a public spectacle,” she replies primly. Her gaze cuts to Cillian, a haughty eyebrow raised. “I’m sure the palace scheduler has already added a litany of social events to the calendar that I’ll be expected to attend.”
Cillian dutifully makes a few taps on his tablet. “You’re not wrong. There is a planning committee for the bonding ceremony that you’re expected to lead. The first meeting is tomorrow morning. Early.”
I shrug off her knowing look. “This is a good thing. With great power comes great responsibility, or some such nonsense.”
She scoffs. “Says the man who has never had to hold a conversation about something they don’t care about while wearing a corset.”
“Sounds kinky,” Ares comments with a laugh. “Count me in.”
“Logan, you also have a few added items on the agenda,” Cillian points out with a restrained cough. “Including overseeing the midnight changing of the guard. Tonight.”
“Tonight?” I repeat.
“Tonight,” Cillian confirms as he angles the tablet where I can see it. “A ranked general or higher must oversee all guard changes as part of the new security protocols. As crowned prince, you’ve been added to the rotation.”
Because all I want is to be up all night. “Great.”
“If you won’t be here, then would it be alright if I spend the night in the harem?” Maya asks.
My reaction isn’t even the strongest.
“Absolutely not,” Poe declares.
“Fuck, no,” Ares says at the same time.
She looks in askance between them. “Are you serious? Why not?”
Cillian almost sounds apologetic. “That attack on the palace targeted the harem. You won’t ever go back there without an escort. Maybe not even then.”
I reach across her for the bottle of wine, noticing the minute way she flinches away. “Not to mention, how it would look. The crowned prince’s Omega doesn’t belong in the royal harem.”
She stares at me. “I don’t even have my own room here.”
I take a swig of wine, tamping down on a surge of annoyance. “You’ll sleep in my bed.”
“And wake up to you stumbling back in the wee hours of the morning, no thank you.”
It doesn’t take an idiot to see what she’s doing. If she wants a break from my attention, that’s fine.
But she’s going to have to earn it.
I gesture around the table with my glass. “You sleep with one of us, or you don’t sleep at all. You decide.”
The palpable tension in the room is now overlaid with anticipation. Poe and Ares briefly eye each other before they both begin to speak at the same time.
“Ares snores. You’ll be up all night, regardless.”
“Poe sleeps with knives under all the pillows.”
“Assuming you wake up at all after a few hundred pounds of muscle crushes you in his sleep.”
Cillian barely makes a sound, no more than a clearing of his throat before they’re turning on him.
“Or if you could share the camping cot that Cillian has in his shoebox of a room.”
“Nothing wrong with building a nest on the hard floor, if that’s your thing.”
It’s a masterful move, I have to admit.
I’d given into the selfish urge to keep Maya to myself, cement our fragile bond before the others get a chance to dilute it with their own claims. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed the fomenting resentment, the way Poe and Ares sniff after her like dogs scenting a choice cut of meat.
Keeping her to myself is sowing division, creating discord, and I can’t let it get out of hand.
Maybe some time spent being fought over like a chew toy will help Maya appreciate what I have to offer her.
When Maya finally opens her mouth and I already know what she’s going to say, practically hear the words forming in her mind.
With a single pointed finger and a voice loud enough to be heard over the din, I command, “Sleeping on the couch is not an option.” Ignoring the barely concealed outrage on her face, I drain the dregs of my wine and smoothly rise from my seat.
“Apparently, I have somewhere to be this evening, so I’ll leave the rest of you to sort this out. ”
Maya follows me to the door, going so far as to grab my arm to stop me. Her touch shoots up my skin like a trail of fire and I bite back a groan at just how good it feels.
“Logan…”
“Poor baby, she doesn’t want to choose?” I murmur, voice practically purring with faux sympathy. I make a point of stepping back before I lose my fight to the urge to put her up against the wall. “I think I have the solution.”
She swallows hard, already anticipating something she isn’t going to want to hear.
“They can fight for it.”