The farther Eira walked from his room, the more elaborate the decorations on the walls became. The house radiated wealth, with each closed door hinting at secrets hidden within its luxurious halls.
He tried to steady his shaking hands by clenching and unclenching them, focusing on the rhythmic tapping of his shoes against the polished floor. His steps quickened, almost matching the frantic beat of his heart—a silent duet of unease. Eira was uncertain about what would await him in the breakfast parlor, but he knew it would not be good.
The servants hurried past, their heads lowered, but Eira noticed how they peeked at him, as though aware he was walking toward his own demise. The whispers were neither quiet nor loud enough to decipher, intensifying his panic. Despite having friendly relationships with some, Eira could still sense the scorn in most of their eyes. Being a noble's son meant little in Assinia once one became an omega; he or she was viewed as less than. He grew up with this harsh reality, and even though it shouldn't affect him, it still did. The notion that his entire identity could be reduced to his gender never made sense to him.
All servants were betas, and all guards were either alphas or betas. Omegas were not seen outside courtesan chambers or in the back of a house waiting to be showcased. They were never true members of society and lacked ownership over themselves—decisions were always made by their father or husband.
"Deep breaths, Eira," came a soft whisper from behind. Lilia could see the tension radiating from his body, as though one touch might make him snap. Such a display could not be tolerated; the duke would not stand for disobedience. Eira nodded quickly and inhaled sharply.
Steeling himself, Eira believed he could handle the situation—it couldn't be worse than being locked in the office alone with his father. The duke would not harm him in the presence of the staff in the dining room, yet his body remained tense and unconvinced.
His walk from his quarters to the west wing took about ten minutes. The closer he got, the slower his pace became, panic creeping in. He focused all his senses, determined not to let his pheromones betray his distress. He couldn't let them know he was defeated before anything had even begun.
In his mind, it was a game—whoever snapped first lost, and Eira was determined not to lose, even if the others were unaware. He knew he could not bear losing even in his own mind.
Eira stopped in front of a tall, polished oak door, hesitating as Able walked past and brushed his arm lightly. Like Lilia, Able was in her thirties but an alpha and not a beta. In a less crowded setting, she would have released calming pheromones as she had when Eira was a child, always gentle and never used to force him—like a comforting blanket, safe and scented like fresh laundry. She glanced at him, almost asking, ready? With a quick inhale, Eira nodded, straightened his posture, adjusted his sleeves, and Able opened the door.
Eira entered and glanced around the table, realizing he was the last to arrive. Able and Lilia joined the other servants and guards, hands behind their backs and gazes forward. Staff were present but never meant to be noticed.
Eira didn't sit, always waiting for permission. At the head of the table sat Duke Emmerson Rose, the third of his name, a man in his late forties with blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. Eira inherited lighter eyes—another difference between them. The duke exemplified nobility: sharp suit, sharper eyes, a rough man through and through. Duchess Annalyse Rose, to his right, grew more beautiful with age. Eira owed his looks to her; he inherited her curves and softness. Like him, she spoke little, though for different reasons. Her hair flowed softly over her shoulders, and her gown was more extravagant than breakfast required.
His brothers completed the picture. Erven, the eldest and heir, sat to the left of their father, resembling a younger Duke Rose but with a strategic mind. Aldrich, second eldest, sat to the left of their mother, favoring her appearance. His messy light brown hair and pale green eyes hinted at a playful, almost cruel curiosity.
All eyes turned to Eira; the air was thick with tension. Duke Rose squinted, as though already tallying Eira's mistakes. "Sit," he commanded. Eira's steps were steady, but his mind raced. He sat next to Evren, hands in his lap and eyes lowered, feeling the others' gazes burn into him. It was as if he was being branded as an undeserving monster. The chandeliers were lit, despite sunlight pouring in, a display of unnecessary luxury.
Breathe. Just breathe. Everything is okay. You're safe. Others are here. Eira repeated to himself.
"I can see you still lack manners. Not even greeting your parents or brothers," his mother remarked, her annoyance evident. She had once pitied and felt guilty about birthing an omega, but that pity had shifted to disdain as her reputation suffered. Nothing upset Annalyse more than scandal, especially one tied to her perfect alpha lineage.
Eira inhaled sharply and looked up. "My apologies, good morning father, mother, brothers," he said, voice shaky. Evren nodded briefly, Aldrich wore a smug smile, and Annalyse hummed with dissatisfaction. Duke Rose stared for a moment. "Just eat your food," he said, picking up his utensils.
The meal was lavish—foods Eira hadn't tasted in ages. Everyone ate in silence, as talking was frowned upon. Eira felt uneasy, choking down food while anxiety clung to him. He barely registered eating and knew his stomach would regret it later; he wasn't used to such indulgence.
He glanced around, searching for clues in the others' expressions but saw only polished masks. With a click, his father set down his silverware and wiped his mouth, prompting everyone else to follow.
Eira kept his eyes lowered, waiting for the real reason he was summoned to the table.
"I was summoned to the palace the other day," Duke Rose announced. All eyes were on him, including Eira sneaking a peak beneath his lowered lashes. The others seemed aware of the summons but not its content.
"Was it the king again, honey?" Annalyse asked with a soft smile. The duke nodded, taking his time to reveal the details. He enjoyed the suspense, making everyone hang on to his words.
"Is it something to do with trade in our iron mines?" Evren asked. "Or war?" Aldrich added. Both were eager for either possibility. Evren's eyes were calculating, and Aldrich's fingers twitched, almost thirsty for blood.
The duke weighed their questions before picking up his glass, as a servant refilled it. Everyone waited for his response.
Eira cared little about the king's summons—he just wanted to know why he was at the table. The delay increased his panic, thoughts jumbled and heart pounding.
The duke finally spoke: "Both." The room seemed to freeze. "Both?" the brothers echoed. Annalyse looked confused. The duke sipped his drink and continued, "The kingdom of Lavasea's knights were spotted near our border a couple months ago. Those bloodthirsty mutts that only know battle and blood."
"What in the gods are they doing near our territory?" Evren asked, nose scrunched in displeasure. "There's only one thing they want," Aldrich said, leaving the answer—war—unspoken, as everyone already knew.
Eira kept his head down. He sensed the duke was withholding something, the conclusion not yet revealed. His instincts screamed for him to leave quickly.
"They sent a royal envoy to the palace last week asking for an alliance and trade. They want iron ore, and in return, they'd fight alongside our kingdom if threatened. They'd also cover more territory bordering the great forest." The duke glanced at his sons, assessing their reactions. He never once looked at Eira; his opinion was irrelevant.
"But wouldn't that give them an advantage in the alliance? We should just cut them down where they stand," Aldrich argued, visibly offended. It was ironic, given it wasn't even his kingdom.
"Ignorant fool. You only have war on your mind, are you truly any better than them," Evren rebuked, earning a glare from Aldrich. "Yes, iron would give them more means to make weapons—likely the last thing we should allow, given their blood-soaked history. But it would benefit us, not just as a kingdom but as a family." The duke visibly approved Evren's analysis.
"Evren is right. Though unsettling, giving them more weapons would benefit us. Our family owns the most iron mines—a cornerstone of our dukedom. We'd profit greatly. With them covering more forest territory, there'd be less worry about monster invasions. They'd help us win any wars, though we must prepare for betrayal. I doubt our knights would lose, but it's something to consider." The duke explained calmly, seemingly unbothered by the prospect of betrayal.
"But would signing a document be enough?" Annalyse asked. The duke shook his head. "This is where you come in, Eira." Silence filled the room following his statement.
Eira froze, thoughts halted. He was too confused to understand how any of this involved him. He looked up, not meeting his father's eyes. "Father?" he asked, seeking clarification.
"Neither royal family wants to send their blood to another kingdom. But marriage is still an option. Duke Vaellatus in Lavasea has an heir who has yet to wed, and you shall marry him." It was as if a hammer struck Eira. He couldn't speak, blinking rapidly in shock.
"But he's an omega." Aldrich spat the word as though he were a disease and not his brother.
"Yes, but those mutts don't care. Alphas and omegas commonly wed in their lands," the duke replied, wrinkling his nose in distaste. He considered it dishonorable for an omega to have any title beyond broodmare or toy.
"You're going to allow Eira to become a duchess? Does that make sense—" Annalyse's voice rose, her distress obvious. The duke shot her a look, silencing her. Though an alpha herself, she could not question the head of the house.
"Don't worry. Though permitted, it's not common. He won't be a duchess immediately; he's marrying the heir. When the heir becomes duke, Eira likely won't stay the main spouse. He'll be lucky to get a room in the back when the official spouse arrives." His words soothed Annalyse's anger slightly. For the first time, the duke assessed Eira directly.
Eira was unsure what expression he wore. He felt his plans slipping further away, as though the rug had been pulled from beneath him. "But I'm not of age," he protested softly. He knew he shouldn't speak his mind, but he didn't know what else to do with this information. The duke scoffed. "You think we're unaware, omega? You'll depart on your 18th birthday. The trip will take three months by carriage. Until then, you'll receive tutoring and be guarded by family knights. You are not to leave our sight. I'll be damned if you ruin this alliance by doing something foolish. Dismissed." Anger seeped from the duke's voice; his pheromones spread through the parlor. Eira couldn't tell if it was from speaking back or the alliance itself that set him off.
Eira stood on shaky legs and left the room, not looking back. The pheromones and the situation were overwhelming—he could barely breathe through the anxiety. Lilia and Able followed quietly, letting the conversation settle in their minds.
Ah, there it is. Eira thought. The quiet life I hoped for has been taken from me too. Freedom was a beautiful dream, even if short-lived.