Rage roars through me like a living thing. I seize his doublet with both hands and haul him close enough that I can see his black irises expand.
"If you think for one second I'll let you insult my father's name," I say, teeth bared, "you're wrong. One more word and I'll forget you're a prince at all."
Prince Rafe blinks once. Slow. Before wrapping his fingers around my wrist. His skin is hot to touch, his body hard like carved marble. "I'm fucking terrified of you, peasant."
His words toe the line of sarcasm, but...his eyes drop to my lips. Time hiccups as his thumb brushes my pulse, finding it pounding.
My anger stutters, a different kind of heat flaring in its place. Something thick fills the air between us, pulling, like a cord snapped tight. My breath hitches as I notice the distance between us has grown even thinner.
Did he move closer? Or did I? And have his eyes always burned like that--
"Rafe?" someone calls out.
The voice tears us apart with lightning speed and Prince Rafe topples his goblet in an attempt to shove some space between us.
Astrea walks in, her white dress flowing behind her, hair bound in luscious curls fit for a princess, and when her eyes land on me, her smile falters.
She looks between the Prince and I, feeling the dangerous edge in the air.
My cheeks betray me, burning a bright shade of crimson. In my peripheral, Prince Rafe looks no better, red-faced and embarrassed, looking like he'd been caught found something he absolutely should not. Like almost...kissing his male subordinate.
"Your placement..." His voice is uncharacteristically husky and he clears his throat, fingers fidgeting at his cuff. "Your placement is in the Northern Wing. Your things are currently being moved. You will be quartered with the elite there. You will eat at their table. You will wear their colours."
His air of arrogance is back as he strides for the pile by the hearth, fishing out a pair of slacks and what looks like new armour. He dumps them in my arms unceremoniously, and I nearly fall from their weight, grunting.
"You will report to the tower's yard two hours before the others wake," he continues, voice cold in his command. "Before the sentries make their rounds, every commander inspects the lines. Yours will be the first to see you sweat every morning."
Grasping at the very straws to understand him, having never heard much about the flanks before, I ask, "Who is my commander?"
Hopefully, I get someone who doesn't hate my guts as much as he does.
As if hearing my thoughts, he places his hands on his hips and smirks. "I command the Northern Wing. I will oversee your training. Personally."
Something about the way he says it makes dread uncoil in my stomach. Interpretation? I'm going to make you suffer.
"When the day's rounds begin, you remain and continue. You are behind the others. Every hour will earn you a chance at survival."
Astrea makes a non-committal sound, sauntering over to Rafe's side. I try not to notice the way his hand curves around her thin waist and she sighs in pleasure as he lowers his head and he nips her ear.
And I wonder if she notices that he's looking right at me when he does it.
"You don't think it's a terrible idea to give a man still under investigation a place in your flank?" Astrea purrs throatily and another strange pang echoes in my chest as she draws her adept fingers over his toned belly.
He groans, catching her fingers before they can push into his pants.
As if remembering that I am present, Prince Rafe turns his grey eyes to me. "If you are indeed, a spy, the most sensible course of action is to keep you closer. It is easier to cut out a traitor when said traitor is within reach."
My lips part on a retort, but he waves me off. "You are dismissed."
I have barely made it out the door when I hear the sound of smooches and rustling fabrics.
"An elite guard," Thane cooes into my ears, irritating me even further. "Wonderful news, though, it seemed like a lot more than that. Tell me, do you always go from wanting to kill a man to wanting to kiss him? Have you ever even had the soft temptation of lips pressed against your foul, virgin mouth?"
As usual, I growl under my breath, "Shut up."
The guard gives me a strange look because of course, he can't see the Thane floating in the air, clad in a long blue robe and matching lush pants that sweep across the floor, looking like he just fell out of bed.
Do guardian spirits sleep as we do, or have I just been blessed with one that sleeps on duty? Even his feet is covered in velvet flip flops.
Ignoring him, I make my way below, guided by a stone faced guard along busy hallways filled with tall, hard faced men, who spare me little to no interest when I bow out of habit.
I am led past the clash of steel in smaller training yard to a large vestment of quarters with doors bearing the royal crest.
Boisterous laughter fills the air and I crane my neck, catching a glimpse of the dining hall. Goblets topple with wine. Platters of untouched food lay over the tables. Huge Alphas clap each other over the back, telling stories of wars years past.
I am to train beside them. The men who have kept our walls standing and kept us safe. These men who have both kept us safe and died for us.
My oldest brother, Zon, had been a great swordsman. It was his dream to join the Elite Guard someday. Before he ever got conscripted, he would steal my father's sword and wreck the pillars in the house with them, while he'd draw the royal crest with a broken chalk on his false cape.
I stare at the armour in my hands and my lips quiver as I realize I am living a dead man's dream.
I should feel gratitude. Maybe a tinge of excitement.
But as I steal a glance once more into the dining hall filled with heroes, I understand that Prince Rafe was right.
I don't belong with these men. I shouldn't be here. It isn't usual to have an exception to the rule. That one weakling who suddenly becomes strong. But Omegas don't have that. What good was a wolf that couldn't even shift or tap into their inner animal?
Worthless. I was worthless. Until that night. And I want to know what changed.
"What's happening me to me, Thane?" I whisper. "What am I?"
"An annoying little shit," is all he says.
"My father is Eldric Ironfang."
The guardian nods.
"My mother is Rhea Ironfang."
To that, Thane doesn't respond.
I barely notice when we reach my quarters or the loud clang as the armour falls from my grasp. I whirl once we're alone, looking Thane in the eye as a fresh wave of panic seizes me. "I am no bastard. I am the last child and only daughter of Rhea and Eldric Ironfang. My father was a good man. He loved my mother!"
Thane's eyes narrow with something akin to pity. "I've lived long enough to know love and unfaithfulness aren't mutually exclusive." He exhales when I begin to hyperventilate. "Rather than plague yourself with this realisation, you should rather wonder what it means for you. What it changes--"
"Leave."
Thane pauses and I feel his gaze burn into the side of my cheek for a moment before he sighs. "I will let you be a moment. To come to terms with the truth, but I trust that you're smart enough to piece it all together. I didn't lie when I said you would win us this war, Valka. You are the first of your kind on this side of the war to live long enough to trigger the curse."
With that, he vanishes, the curtains blowing on the chilly air that suddenly fills the room. I try to make for the bed, but I land on the floor instead, knees drawn up to my face, arms wrapped around myself.
My whole life...has been a lie.