Chapter 2 #2
And now Malakai is going to strip it all away.
The claiming will mark me as his Omega for everyone to see.
The scent change alone will announce it to both courts—my natural vanilla and light magic scent will be permanently mingled with his dark cedar and winter smoke.
No more hiding. No more pretending I'm anything other than what my biology says I am.
Every Omega in both courts will know I'm claimed. Every Alpha will know I'm his. And the political ramifications—a Light Court Omega bound to the Shadow Lord—will reshape the power dynamics of both courts.
I'll become a symbol. A prize. A breeding vessel for the prophesied heir.
Everything I've fought against for nine years, made inevitable by a single night.
"Would you prefer I collapse into hysterics?" I ask Cassian coolly, deflecting from the hurt my father's words cause. "Would that solve anything?"
In my head, I recite the opening verses of "The Light Bearer's Lament," an ancient poem my mother taught me. When darkness threatens to consume, remember that shadow cannot exist without light...
The familiar words help me maintain my composure when I want to scream.
"Seraphina," my father says, stepping forward. "We need to talk. Privately."
I arch an eyebrow. "I believe we're already private, unless Shadow Court spies lurk in the walls."
"They might," my father says grimly. He makes a subtle gesture with his hand—a small flare of light magic that briefly illuminates the room before settling into a faint shimmer around us—a privacy ward, simple but effective against eavesdropping.
"Now we can speak freely," he says.
I cross my arms. "What is there to say? You didn’t exactly put up a fight."
Cassian winces. My father's expression remains impassive, his Alpha scent revealing nothing.
"Is that what you think?" he asks. "That I've sacrificed you?"
"What would you call it?" I snap, my calm facade cracking.
"I'm to marry a man who calls himself the monster of the Shadow Court, who threatened to execute my brother in front of me, who looked at me like—" I cut myself off, unwilling to voice how Malakai had looked at me, like a predator sizing up prey.
Like an Alpha who'd just scented his mate.
"Tell me, Father, what would you call it if not a sacrifice? "
"I would call it an opportunity," he says quietly.
I freeze. "What?"
"Did you really think I didn't know?" My father moves to the window, looking out at the twilight of the Shadow Court. "About the Order of the Silent Blade? About your missions?"
My blood runs cold. "How—"
"The assassination in Blackvale last summer.
The informant you cultivated in the Eastern Provinces.
That advisor who 'accidentally' fell from the tower during the trade negotiations.
" He turns to face me, his expression unreadable.
"Seraphina, I'm not a fool. An Omega, even one on suppressants, operating as an assassin for four years?
You think I wouldn't notice? Wouldn't investigate? "
The implications begin to crystallize, sharp and painful as ice forming in my chest.
"I know about the Order," he continues quietly. "I know what they do. What they've trained you to become."
"And you said nothing?" My voice cracks despite my attempt to control it. "You let me—"
"Let you what? Find purpose beyond being bred to some Alpha councilor?
" His Alpha scent remains carefully neutral.
"You were going to be matched at sixteen, Seraphina.
Some alliance marriage to strengthen the family position.
Instead, you found another path. A darker one, perhaps, but one that let you keep your autonomy. "
"You approved of me becoming an assassin?" I can't keep the disbelief from my voice.
"I approved of you not being reduced to a breeding mare." He steps closer, his golden eyes holding mine. "The moment you presented as Omega, your life was over—or it would have been, if you'd followed the traditional path. The Order gave you something else. Something more."
Cassian looks between us, clearly lost. "Father, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying your sister is far more capable than you've ever realized," Father says without looking away from me. "And now, that capability will serve a greater purpose."
"What purpose?" But I already feel the trap closing.
"Malakai is powerful," Father says bluntly. "The most dangerous Shadow Lord in generations. This marriage—whether it came about through Cassian's mistake or not—gives you access no one else has. His chambers. His trust, eventually. His vulnerability."
My stomach drops.
"You want me to kill him," I say flatly.
"I want you to be prepared," he corrects.
"To protect yourself and your interests.
Malakai is not a safe man, Seraphina. He's a monster who has killed countless Light Court members over the centuries.
If you find yourself in a position where you must act to save yourself, to save your brother, to serve the Light Court's interests—" He pauses meaningfully. "Then you act."
"You're asking me to assassinate the Shadow Lord."
"I'm asking you to survive," he says quietly.
"By whatever means necessary. If that means playing the docile Omega until you can escape, do that.
If it means finding leverage to ensure your and Cassian's safety, do that.
And if it means..." He doesn't finish, but the implication hangs heavy in the air.
Cassian's face has gone pale. "Father, you can't be serious—"
"I'm deadly serious." Father's voice hardens.
"Your sister has skills most people don't know exist. She's survived things that would have broken others.
And now she's going into the most dangerous faction in Shadow Realm, married to its most ruthless lord.
" He looks back at me. "Use everything you've learned.
Every skill, every technique, every instinct.
Whatever it takes to protect yourself and come home alive. "
The words sound like concern, like a father worried for his daughter's safety. But I hear what lies beneath: Kill him if you get the chance. Eliminate the threat. Serve the Light Court.
"And if I refuse?" I ask through numb lips. "If I choose not to... act?"
"Then you survive however you can," Father says. "But know this—Malakai has made enemies of the Light Court for centuries. If an opportunity presents itself to end that threat, the Court will expect you to take it. Your brother's continued safety may depend on your cooperation."
The threat is subtle but clear. Do this, or Cassian remains at risk.
He places a hand on my shoulder briefly, then removes it. "You've trained your whole life to survive, Seraphina. Even if you didn't realize what you were training for. Now use those skills. Be smart. Be careful. And when the moment comes—if it comes—don't hesitate."
When they finally leave, I stand frozen in the center of the room.
He knows. He's always known. And now he expects me to use everything the Order taught me to assassinate Malakai.
The weight of that expectation, that mission, settles on my shoulders like heavy chains.
But what terrifies me most is that part of me is already calculating how to do exactly what he's asking.
Hours pass. The light fades from the narrow windows, replaced by the unnatural darkness of the Shadow Court—a blackness so complete it seems to swallow sound itself.
I should sleep. Should conserve my strength for tomorrow.
But every time I close my eyes, I see Malakai's face, feel the phantom weight of his shadows on my skin, smell that intoxicating Alpha scent that makes my traitorous body respond despite my hatred.
A soft knock at the door makes me tense. Too gentle to be guards. Too hesitant to be a threat.
"Enter," I call, positioning myself near the letter opener.
The door opens to reveal a young woman—Beta, based on her neutral scent—carrying a tray laden with food. Her eyes are downcast, her movements careful.
"Lord Malakai sends his regards," she says quietly, setting the tray on a side table. "He thought you might be hungry."
I eye the food suspiciously. "How thoughtful. Did he also send someone to taste it first, or does he expect me to trust Shadow Court hospitality?"
The servant meets my eyes for the first time, a ghost of understanding in her expression. Without a word, she picks up a piece of the roasted meat and eats it, then tears off a piece of bread and does the same. She takes a sip from the goblet of wine, then a spoonful of the vegetables.
"Lord Malakai was quite insistent that you not be... uncomfortable," she says.
Uncomfortable. What a delicate way to phrase "poisoned."
I watch her for a long moment. No trembling. No pallor. No scent of fear or deception that would suggest she'd just poisoned herself to prove a point. Either the food is safe, or she's been given an antidote—and if Malakai wanted me dead, he would have done it in the throne room.
After she leaves, I approach the tray. The food is surprisingly appealing—roasted meat, fresh bread, vegetables I don't recognize but smell divine. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten since this morning.
I eat, tasting nothing, my mind already moving to the next problem.
Another knock at the door—firmer this time. When it opens, an older woman enters, flanked by three younger servants. Her steel-gray hair is pulled back severely, and her Beta scent carries the sharp tang of authority.
"Lady Seraphina," the older woman says with a perfunctory bow. "I am Mistress Kate, keeper of the Shadow Lord's household. I am here to prepare you for tomorrow's ceremony."
"And if I refuse to be prepared?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
A thin smile crosses her wrinkled face. "Then we will prepare you regardless, and it will be considerably less pleasant for everyone involved."