"Done," the adjudicator intoned gravely. A silver capsule was handed to Alexander on a velvet tray by a page; he snatched it, popping it under his tongue with a grimace, the binding rune flaring briefly on his skin before fading, magic sealed away like chains on his soul. "Your Highness? Your counter-condition?"
Alexander gritted his perfect white teeth, the star-lily's vines brushing his jaw—why this blatant favouritism toward the alpha? Everyone in the stadium wanted him to lose. Even the people of his own gender weren't supporting him. To them, he was a strayed omega.
"I want to remove my veil entirely."
Another collective gasp spread like wildfire, nobles leaning forward in shock, whispers exploding around the arena.
"What madness?"
"Exposing that face?"
"Has he gone mad?!"
"No omega should expose their face in the public!"
