Chapter 6 – Billie
Six
BILLIE
The sunbeam hitting my face through the enchanted window has earned an enemy for life.
Five fucking days I've been trapped in this gilded cage, and the Fae still haven't figured out what to do with their unexpected omega problem.
At least it's five.
Not that I'm complaining about the accommodations. The bed alone probably costs more than most humans see in a lifetime, and the sheets get changed twice a day by staff who look at me like I'm either a precious jewel or a particularly interesting zoo animal.
Hard to tell which.
I've tested every possible escape route. The window? Enchanted to feel solid as stone when I try to open it, despite looking like regular glass. The hidden door? Locked with magic that makes my fingers tingle when I touch the handle too long.
And this fucking collar around my neck heats up whenever I try to fuck with it, like a warning shot across the bow.
The worst part is how they always know what I'm doing. I'll be elbow-deep in trying to pry open an air vent when suddenly—oh look!—a nurse needs to check my vitals.
Or I'll be testing the bathroom window's enchantments when a doctor conveniently remembers they forgot to ask about my medical history for the umpteenth time. It's like they've got me on supernatural surveillance.
At least the heat is gone. That particular nightmare ended about twelve hours after I woke up here, leaving me feeling like I'd been hit by a truck.
Dr. Helwood explained it was the suppressants doing their job, but I caught the way he kept checking his notes, like even he wasn't sure how my body would react to their treatments.
Apparently, wild omegas are unpredictable.
Who knew?
The food arrives on schedule, because of course it does.
Everything here runs like clockwork. The tray practically floats through the door, carried by a servant who won't make eye contact.
Today's lunch is some kind of roasted bird with a fancy name I don't care to remember accompanied by vegetables I've never seen before and spongy bread that smells like heaven.
It's obscene. Children starve outside the human farm cities while the Fae serve their pets food that belongs at a royal banquet.
The thought kills what little appetite I had.
I push the tray away and return to my favorite pastime, which is counting. Five tiles from the bed to the bathroom. Five steps from the window to the door. Five seconds between each tick of the ornate clock on the wall.
The patterns keep my mind sharp. And they stop me from drowning in the luxury they're trying to suffocate me with.
The door opens without warning. Dr. Helwood enters first, those purple eyes sweeping the room like he's checking for signs of mischief. Behind him follows someone new.
The stranger looks young, maybe mid-twenties in human years, but he's Fae so he's probably older than the compound itself.
His hair falls past his shoulders in waves of gold.
He's wearing silk robes with subtle embroidery that shifts between colors I don't have names for.
His eyes are the pale blue of winter ice, and they study me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
"Miss Moreau," Dr. Helwood says, and I hate how he makes my name sound like poetry. "This is Lord Lefrent, Steward of Omega Affairs for the kingdom."
Steward of Omega Affairs. Fancy title for someone who manages breeding stock.
Lord Lefrent inclines his head slightly, a gesture that somehow manages to be both polite and condescending. "Miss Moreau. I trust you're feeling better?"
"Peachy," I reply, not bothering to hide my sarcasm. "Really loving the luxury prison vibe you've got going here."
Dr. Helwood's lips thin, but Lord Lefrent actually smiles. It's not a nice smile. More like the kind of smile a cat gives a mouse it's decided to play with before dinner.
"Would you care to join me for a walk?" he asks, gesturing toward the door. "Fresh air might do you good, assuming you're feeling well enough."
It's not really a question. These past few days, I've learned that Fae don't really ask questions. They make suggestions that sound like requests but carry the weight of commands.
Still, I've been dying to get out of this room for something other than the supervised strolls they've been allowing me.
"Sure," I say, standing and trying not to grimace at the robes they've dressed me in.
The fabric is soft as water and light as air, but it makes me feel naked.
Vulnerable. Nothing like my hunting leathers that were basically a second skin.
These robes float around me like I'm some kind of ethereal being instead of a trained killer playing dress-up. "Lead the way, my Lord Lefort."
"Lefrent," he corrects. His smile widens, showing teeth that are just a little too sharp to be human. "But please, call me Aurelius. We needn't stand on ceremony."
Right. Because we're such good friends already.
The gardens are, annoyingly, even more beautiful in the afternoon light.
Paths wind between flowers that definitely don't exist in the human realm, their petals shifting through colors that make my eyes water if I look too long.
Fountains tinkle with water that seems to flow upward in some places, defying physics with the usual Fae arrogance.
The air smells like honey, sweet with an electric undertone that keeps me on edge.
We walk in silence for a few minutes, Lefrent setting a leisurely pace that makes me want to scream. I feel the guards trailing us at a respectful distance, their presence a constant reminder that there is no freedom here. This is just a longer leash.
"So," I say, because I'm tired of playing games. "What are you going to do with me?"
He glances at me sideways, those ice-blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Direct. I appreciate that quality in humans. So many of your kind prefer to dance around their intentions."
"Yeah, well, I was raised by people who believe in cutting straight to the heart of things." Literally, in most cases. "So? Am I getting auctioned off to the highest bidder? Shipped to some breeding facility? Given a nice collar and taught to heel?"
"Such colorful imagination," he murmurs. "Tell me, Billie, how did you come to be in our woods? It's quite unusual for an omega to be wandering alone, especially one in heat."
I stop walking, crossing my arms over my chest. The movement makes the robes shift just enough to be irritating.
No telling how much Dr. Helwood told him. Probably everything. This could be a test to see if I'll lie.
"Isn't it obvious? My resonance was revealed at my Unmasking. Turns out the hunter they trained to kill your kind was actually meant to breed with them. Funny how life works out."
"And your family's response to this revelation?"
The words taste bitter, but I force them out. "They dumped me in the woods like garbage. Figured nature would take care of their embarrassment one way or another."
His expression shifts, and for a moment I think I see genuine shock flicker across those perfect features. "They abandoned you? A newly manifested omega?"
"Why wouldn't they?" The bitterness in my voice isn't entirely fake. They did abandon me, just with more purpose than I'm letting on. "I know Helwood told you I'm a hunter."
His silence speaks volumes. He just continues giving me that annoyingly sage look, as if waiting for me to continue.
"Omegas might be useful to you, but to us, they're the curse that allows your kind to continue to exist," I add. "Any other clan would have killed me the second they found out what I was."
"And yet yours spared your life," he remarks.
The laugh that comes out of me sounds like broken glass. "You think that was mercy?"
He studies me for a long moment, and I can practically see the gears turning behind those ancient eyes. Whatever he's looking for, he seems to find it, because he nods slowly.
"I imagine you've been taught all manner of things about our nature," he says, resuming our walk. His tone is gentler now, which somehow makes it worse. "But you needn't fear. As an omega, you will receive the utmost care and consideration while under our protection, regardless of your origins."
Under their protection. Right. More like under their possession, but I bite my tongue. The role I'm playing doesn't allow for that kind of honesty.
"That's very reassuring," I say dryly. "So what's the plan? You can't keep me in that hospital room forever, right? Even the Fae must have better things to do than babysit one wayward omega."
His pace slows as if he's aware he needs to limit himself to keep up with my inferior human stature. "Are you familiar with Valemyre University?"
I pretend like the question catches me off guard. Of course I know about it. I'm counting on it.
"I've heard of it," I admit carefully. "Hard not to when you're raised by people who consider it a symbol of everything wrong with the world."
His lips quirk. "Yes, I imagine the hunters have quite strong opinions about our educational system. Nevertheless, despite your unusual circumstances, arrangements must be made for your admission to the university as soon as possible."
"After a brief period of assimilation training, of course," he adds, like that's supposed to mean something to me.
I have no fucking idea what "assimilation training" entails, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to find out. But I need to play along. Need to seem like the lost little omega who has nowhere else to go and desperately needs guidance.
"You're sending me to college?" I laugh. "That's your grand solution? Put me in a classroom with a bunch of other omegas and hope I learn to play nice?"
He smirks, and it transforms his face from merely beautiful to genuinely unsettling. "You're an omega. You must be properly educated."
Translation, taught to be a good little pet who spreads her legs on command and pops out supernatural babies like a vending machine. The thought makes bile rise in my throat, but I swallow it down along with my pride.
This is what I wanted, I remind myself. Get into the university, get close to the prince, complete the mission. Simple and clean. Just like slicing a knife clean through his spinal column will be.
"When?" I ask, proud of how steady my voice sounds.
"Soon. There are matters to arrange, paperwork to file. Your lack of proper registration complicates things, but not insurmountably so." He pauses by a fountain where the water flows in impossible spirals. "A high-ranking individual has already taken an interest in becoming your benefactor."
"Benefactor?" I echo. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Nothing that should concern you," is his clipped answer, making it clear he has no intention of clarifying. "You'll remain here for the time being, under medical supervision. Dr. Helwood wants to ensure you're fully recovered before we proceed."
"And this assimilation training?"
"Will help you adjust to your new life," he says smoothly. "Think of it as freshman orientation."
Orientation for being a broodmare. Fantastic.
We complete our circuit of the gardens in relative silence, my mind chaotic with possibilities.
The university is perfect. Better than perfect.
It's exactly where I need to be. The thought of enduring whatever humiliations they have planned before they ship me there makes my skin crawl, but I've endured worse.
Twenty years of training taught me that pain is temporary, but death? Death is permanent.
And Prince Corvinus's death is all that matters.
As we approach the hospital entrance, Lefrent pauses.
"One more thing. Your honesty today has been refreshing.
But I would caution you against attempting any of the skills your former life may have taught you.
The university has ways of dealing with troublesome omegas, and I would hate to see you suffer unnecessarily any more than you already have. "
The threat is delivered with the same gentle tone he's used throughout our conversation, but I hear it for what it is. A warning. A reminder that no matter how special they think omegas are, we're still property. Still things to be controlled.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I lie smoothly.
His smile says he doesn't believe me for a second, but he inclines his head politely. "Indeed. Dr. Helwood will see you back to your room. I'll be in touch regarding your placement shortly."
And just like that, he's gone, gliding away with that inhuman grace all Fae seem to possess. Dr. Helwood appears at my elbow like he was summoned, which he probably was.
"Shall we?" he asks, gesturing toward the entrance.
I follow him back through the maze of sterile hallways, past rooms where other patients—or prisoners, depending on how you look at it—are probably receiving the same five-star treatment. My bare feet whisper against floors polished to mirrored perfection, and I count each step.
Five, ten, fifteen, twenty.
Always grounding myself in numbers that make sense when nothing else does.
Back in my room, I sink onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. University. They're sending me to their precious university where Prince Corvinus is playing at being a student between bouts of warfare, breathing air he doesn't deserve to taste.
The collar around my neck pulses warm for a moment, like it knows the direction of my thoughts.
But it can't read minds.
If it could, they'd have executed me already for the violent fantasies playing on repeat in my head.