Chapter 2 #3
I consider my options. Fighting now would be foolish—it would achieve nothing except perhaps injuring some servants and alerting Malakai to my true capabilities. Better to appear cooperative. Compliant. A proper Omega accepting her fate.
"Very well," I say with as much dignity as I can muster. "What does this preparation entail?"
"First, you will bathe," Mistress Kate says. "Then we will ensure the ceremonial gown fits properly. Lord Malakai has selected the traditional dress for his high bride—a title given only to the most politically significant wives of Shadow Lords, those whose unions seal major alliances."
High bride. The term makes my stomach turn. Not just bride. Not just mate. High bride—a position of importance, of power. Or perhaps just a fancier cage for a trapped Omega.
"And this gown?" I ask. "I assume it's black?"
"It is the ceremonial wedding gown of the late Lady Morgana, Lord Malakai's grandmother," Mistress Kate says, a note of reverence entering her voice.
"It is considered a great honor. The gown has not been worn in three generations.
Lady Morgana was also an Omega—an Omega Alpha, the rarest designation. "
"Omega Alpha?" I've never heard the term.
"Someone born with Omega biology—the ability to bear children, go into heat, respond to Alpha commands—but who presents with Alpha secondary traits.
Dominance. Aggression. The ability to command others, to exert Alpha pressure.
" She pauses. "It occurs in perhaps one in ten thousand presentations.
They can command like Alphas but conceive like Omegas.
Lady Morgana united three warring Shadow Court factions through sheer force of will and political brilliance, all while pregnant with Lord Malakai's grandfather.
She ruled beside her mate as an equal, not a possession. "
The implication hangs in the air: This dress belonged to someone powerful. Someone who refused to be just a breeding vessel.
"How fortunate for me," I say dryly, though something in my chest tightens at the thought.
The bath is drawn in the bathing chamber, the water scented with unfamiliar herbs and flowers. I submit to the ministrations of the servants, letting them wash my hair and scrub my body while I retreat into my mind, reciting assassination protocols and escape routes to keep myself calm.
When they finally bring the gown, I can't suppress a reaction.
It's beautiful in a dark, disturbing way—black silk and velvet with silver embroidery depicting constellations and shadow symbols.
The neckline plunges indecently low, and the back is almost entirely open, designed to display the claiming bite that will inevitably mark my throat.
It's designed to display the wearer like a trophy, like a claimed Omega on her Alpha's arm.
"I will not wear that," I state flatly.
Mistress Kate's eyes narrow. "You will. Lord Malakai has commanded it."
"I am not yet bound to obey his commands," I counter. "I am not yet his mate."
"Perhaps not," she agrees, her voice softening strangely. "But consider this, Lady Seraphina. Your position here is precarious. Your family's safety depends on this alliance. Your brother's life hangs in the balance. Is a dress really the battle you wish to choose?"
She's right, of course. This isn't the hill to die on, not when larger objectives are at stake. But surrender, even on something as trivial as clothing, grates against every instinct. Against every year I've spent fighting my designation, refusing to be reduced to an Omega's traditional role.
"Fine," I concede finally. "But know that I do so under protest."
"Duly noted," she says dryly.
The dress fits as if it were made for me, which is unsettling in itself.
As the servants arrange my hair—partially up with elaborate braids threaded with silver silk, partially down in loose waves that will make it easy for an Alpha to grab, to hold me in place while he claims me—I stare at my reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing myself.
The woman who stares back at me is beautiful in a dangerous way, golden eyes bright against the darkness of the gown, skin pale and luminous.
The neckline displays the unmarked column of my throat, smooth and perfect, ready for an Alpha's claiming bite.
I look like a Shadow Court consort, a worthy match for the monster who will soon claim me as mate.
The thought should disgust me. Instead, I find a strange resolve settling over me. Let Malakai think he's won. Let him believe I'm just another political pawn, a reluctant bride cowed by his power and reputation, an Omega who will submit to her Alpha's dominance.
He'll learn his mistake far too late.
As Mistress Kate and her assistants finally leave, satisfied with their preparations, I move back to the window. Tomorrow night, after the ceremony, Malakai will claim me. The mate bond will solidify. I'll become his in every way that matters—biologically, magically, legally.
But my suppressants will hold for a few more days. Long enough to keep my mind clear. Long enough to endure the claiming without losing myself completely to heat. Long enough to begin planning.
I recite the Assassin's Creed silently as I move toward the center of the room, the words a familiar anchor:
Swift as shadow, still as stone,
Heart untouched and duty known.
Life for life and blood for blood,
Justice served when daggers flood.
Tomorrow I will become the bride of a monster. After that, I begin working toward becoming his widow.
The Light Court will gain the political advantage it needs. And I... I will survive this. I will endure being claimed, being marked as an Alpha's mate. I will endure my own biology's betrayal.
Because I am more than my designation. I am an assassin. A weapon.
And weapons don't feel. They simply execute their purpose.
I close my eyes and center myself, pushing down the traitorous whisper of my Omega instincts that wonders what it would be like to truly submit to an Alpha. To let Malakai claim me not as duty but as desire. To accept the mate bond instead of fighting it.
No. That way lies weakness. Vulnerability. Failure.
I am Seraphina of House Lumina. Hidden Omega. Trained assassin. And I will complete my mission, no matter the cost.
Even if that cost is my own body, my own designation, my own soul.