As she passed, her scent stirred around him—honey and jasmine, laced with a whisper of musk. Subtle, yet insidious. A quiet lure woven into the air, nudging at something primal. He wasn’t the only one who noticed; the more seasoned Alphas in the room, the ones more sensitive to an Omega’s scent, shifted, reacting on instinct before remembering their place.
She had her Awakening late—twenty years old, if the whispers were true. It was certainly rare. Fleetingly, he wondered if she’d endured her first Heat yet, or if that was something her future Alpha would lay claim to.
Not that it was any of his concern.
He watched her move, untouched by the ripples she stirred. Her focus remained fixed ahead, as if afraid to glance anywhere but the royal table where her family awaited. A thick golden braid, intricately woven with pearls and ribbons, swayed along her back with each measured step. Her gown was sapphire satin, a choice no doubt intended to echo the depths of her gaze. The neckline might’ve erred on the side of decorum, but the sculpted cut couldn’t obscure her ripe allure—the elegant curve of her waist and the subtle promise of rounded hips, meant to captivate any Alpha’s gaze.
“What do you think about the princess?” Kaelen asked, too casually to be offhand.
Alarik picked up a goblet from a passing servant. “We don’t know anything about her.”
“True, but I prefer to think that works in her favour, not against it.”
He took a sip. “She is beautiful.”
“Undeniably so.”
“But beauty deceives.”
Kaelen’s gaze flicked to him, one brow lifting. “Does it always?”
Alarik’s eyes narrowed. There it was again. The certainty in his brother’s voice struck him as unusual. Kaelen embraced life with easy confidence, but he wasn’t prone to hasty conclusions, at least not about things that mattered—like an Omega bride.
“Youseem sure about her.” Alarik kept his tone neutral, taking another sip.
Kaelen looked at the princess once more over the rim of his cup, a quiet hope lurking beneath the usual glint of mischief. “No, but I’m open to the possibility she might be the one for us.”
Alarik’s eyes drifted to where the princess sat.
For us.
A flicker of something passed through him. A recognition, an unspoken understanding that, yes, shecouldbe the one.
Yet, the familiar edge of wariness rose alongside it, one he couldn’t shake.
He looked away, exhaling slowly. “You think I’m being too cautious.”
“You’veearnedthe right to be cautious,” Kaelen replied, his tone light but not glib. “Still, it doesn’t matter what I think. Her character is something you must discover for yourself.”
The musicians began tuning their instruments, filling the room with the first notes of a lively tune, a sign dancing was about to commence.
Kaelen’s words cut through the din. “Dance with her. Know her beyond the surface. Form your opinion on her true self, not looks, assumptions, or instincts. You won’t learn who she is by standing here, brooding.”
Alarik frowned, hesitant. “Must I?”
“Yes.” His brother’s expression remained serious, though amusement twinkled in those eyes. “Go.”
He glanced at the colourful crowd, the room a froth of excitement and competition, though no one approached the princess yet. From their seats at the head table, the king and queen’s eyes flickered toward him and Kaelen, anticipation clear in every sidelong glance.
He knew the evening wouldn’t officially begin until one of them stepped forward to claim the first dance with the princess—their privilege as champions. It was clear Kaelen had already decided he wouldn’t be the one to act first.
No, that honour was placed on Alarik’s lap.
Frustration stirred, a familiar pressure pushing against his ribs.Years of navigating expectations and disappointments had taught him to bury it deep, but contests always dragged it back to the surface—an old ache he’d never quite learned to silence.
He placed his goblet down, the cool metal lingering against his fingers before he released it, then wove through the throng. Conversations faded beneath his heart’s rhythm. Lantern’s glow softened the sharp edges of the room, their warm light casting fleeting shadows on polished stone and silk. The closer he drew to the royal table, the denser the air seemed to become, charged with the quiet weight of watching eyes. Their attention prodded him, but he kept his focus fixed on the princess.
When he finally stood before her, the grand feasting table felt less like a barrier and more like a line he shouldn’t cross.
