Chapter 6 #2
It had been so long since Ren had been around so many people. Alphas and Omegas pittered around, readjusting flower arrangements and seating and decorations. It truly was a grand affair, which Ren supposed made sense. It wasn’t often they welcomed a new King.
The coronation was held in front of the castle.
The giant, stone doors that usually hid the Wolves away inside were wide open, letting the sunlight warm the chilly interior, and Wolves roamed freely in and out of the castle.
Watching the streams of people, so happy to be outside just like Ren was, they were somewhat like prisoners too when those massive doors were closed.
There were flowers everywhere. Ren wondered where they got them. He never saw gardens or flowers around the castle. Even up on the cliffs, little white and yellow buds bloomed in the spring, but the valley was always devoid of color or life.
But here now, to celebrate their new king, the castle finally felt alive.
At the top of the steps, closest to the door, there was a small stage built of simple wood and stones, where Ren assumed Oren would stand to receive his crown and greet his people.
Out in the courtyard, there were rows and rows of seats—already, a few elderly Alphas and Omegas sat in them, chatting with each other while waiting for the celebration to begin.
A long table held many plates of food, with space for more to be added, and the delicious smells immediately drew Ren’s nose to them. He almost veered off course, his feet trying to drag him to the pastries and fruits, but Falk’s hold on the chain kept him in line.
“Where do we go?” Ren asked, keeping his voice down so only Falk could hear him. He didn’t see any place appropriate for prisoners to be held.
“There,” Falk said, jerking his chin to one side.
Ren squinted, trying to see what he was talking about. “There?” He asked, pointing. It was a small space, off to one side, away from the feast and audience. It was sectioned off by a long chain and a lack of flowers or other decorations. “I don’t even understand why we are up here.”
“It is so you all can see who your new king is—to see who will be deciding your fates from now on,” Falk said. It sounded like he was reciting text from a book.
“My fate has already been decided,” Ren reminded him.
Falk shrugged, “Sometimes kings do not agree with their predecessors. Many have taken the throne and immediately put new laws into place or freed all of the prisoners because they did not agree with their sentencing.”
“Have some kings also come into power and immediately sentenced all of their prisoners to death?”
Falk’s silence was answer enough.
Once the prisoners were lined up, stacked in neat rows, Ren realized the two dozen of them were truly meant to stand there and wait for the coronation to begin. Ren did a double take, looking each way, before leaning closer to Falk and whispering, “Why are we here so early?”
“Are you complaining about fresh air and sunlight?” Falk asked back, his lips barely moving. They were at the back of the rows of prisoners, so Ren didn’t think he had to be so strict about not speaking; the other Warriors were not paying attention to them.
Ren rocked back and forth on his feet. He appreciated being outside, but it made him even antsier than normal.
He couldn’t help gazing out into the trees that marked the paths out of the valley—it wouldn’t take much for him to escape.
He would need to get away for just long enough to run.
He was fast—or, at least, he used to be—he was sure he could lose himself between the trees if given the chance.
His hands were sweating as a million ideas, a million escape plans ran through his mind.
He glanced up at Falk’s tight, careful expression.
Ren smiled to himself as he looked down at his handcuffs—the only thing that kept him from freedom being the chain resting in Falk’s fist.
He waited a while, even kept his mouth shut rather than complaining about the boredom or the heat burning his neck. He waited for the rush of people to become more frantic—Wolves taking their seats and workers busily buzzing around like little bees trying to finish their tasks before the deadline.
He turned to Falk, scrunching his nose, as he said, “I need to use the bathroom.”
“The coronation will begin within the hour, and then?—”
“Falk,” Ren whispered. “Please, I need to pee.”
The other Alpha guard glanced over his shoulder, eyes trailing over Ren before flickering over to Falk. “Take him over to the woods. I don’t want to deal with him pissing himself.” The Alpha paused, sniffing as he gazed at Ren. “Especially this one. I don’t trust him to not make a scene.”
Falk nodded and tugged on Ren’s wrist until he fell into step behind Falk.
“Here,” Falk said, motioning to a spot in the trees far from unwanted eyes.
Ren frowned up at him, “I can’t pee with you watching me.”
“I watch you pee all the time, Ren,” Falk said. “Stop playing around.”
“Pervert,” Ren mumbled but started working to undo his pants. He scowled when he truly did have trouble with them because of his cuffs. He turned to Falk, “Help.”
“Are you a child?” Falk sighed loudly, exacerbated. But he still moved the chain he held to the crook of his elbow so he could use both hands to untie Ren’s clothing. Ren smiled and chirped out a little ‘thanks.’
There was a strange tension between them as Ren turned away to relieve himself. It was true Falk was forced to watch him like this all the time—it shouldn’t have felt so foreign and awkward. Maybe it was tension from the fact that Falk realized how easily Ren could run here.
If he wanted to try, he needed to make sure it was the furthest thing from Falk’s mind.
Once he was finished, he turned back to Falk, smiling sheepishly, “Can you help?”
Falk softened and stepped forward. Ren raised his hands as he came closer and Falk hesitated a moment, on guard. Ren raised his hands to press them to Falk’s chest, looking down chastely. “Thank you for helping me so much, Falk,” he murmured.
Falk huffed out a laugh—it wasn’t one Ren had heard from him before. It was awkward, stilted. “Why are you acting so shy now?” he asked.
Because Falk was an Alpha—of course he was going to be soft for an Omega in need.
“I realized I haven’t really told you how much I appreciate you,” Ren said, gaze flicking up to Falk’s face as Falk moved to help tie his pants back together. Once they were secure, Ren stepped forward even more, almost pressing against Falk, with only a breadth between them.
“Ren?” Falk questioned, putting his hands on Ren’s shoulders to steady him. “What's wrong?”
“I’m…” Ren took a shaky breath. “Do you… do you think Oren will do… will do that?”
Falk’s eyebrows pinched together, “Do what?”
“Do you think he will kill all of the prisoners?” Ren whispered.
Even as he dipped his head meekly, Ren’s heart didn’t pound with worry, but instead with anticipation.
There was no point in worrying about what would happen once Oren took the throne—he would be gone by then. Only Falk stood in his way now.
“No, Ren. He won’t. I know him well and many of our prisoners aren’t there for long sentences.
He would never do that,” Falk said as he stepped closer, hands twitching at his sides as though they wanted to reach out and tuck Ren into an embrace.
Guilt strung through Ren when he realized Falk’s sympathy was genuine.
Ren dipped his head lower, away from the feelings so he could focus on his words rather than Falk’s softened features. “I don’t want to die, Falk,” Ren murmured.
Falk squeezed his shoulder. “You are not going to be sentenced to death, I promise.”
Ren peeked up at him through his lashes that were clumping together from the tears he had forced out. “You promise?”
Falk hesitated. “I promise as much as I’m able to.”
Ren felt something jolt through his spine as he made eye contact with him. Falk was so difficult to read, and Ren wasn’t about to ask what the look in his eye was—it seemed fond, something quiet that Ren didn’t fully understand.
He couldn’t run—he couldn’t betray Falk’s trust, couldn’t be unworthy of that look.
Ren bit his lip hard, gnawing as he considered the fact that he had come out here with a plan to run, to escape and get as far away as possible, and now his feelings for an Alpha was the thing keeping him from doing so.
When he licked his lip—slightly raw from his teeth—Falk’s gaze flickered down to his mouth and then back up again as though it had never moved from his eyes.
Ren barely had to move closer to be able to kiss him, it was barely a tilt up of his chin and a lean forward. They had already been so close Ren could hear Falk’s heartbeats and feel his breath on his skin. All there was left to do was quick, simple motions, to lock their mouths together.
Ren had never kissed someone before—not really. He had experienced the insistent press of another person against him, had choked on a tongue forcing its way into his throat, had felt another man’s teeth against his own. But he had never actually experienced the soft, slow press of lips on lips.