Page 182 of The Fallen Fae King

I granted Ignatius rooms close to me, only a couple of corridors away from my royal nest. It is convenient for his work with me, as well as marking out his status within the inner court.

It is the only way that I can hope to keep him safe from Maximinus.

I wanted to house him as far from my uncle as possible because he was always going to be a target.

I slink into the room, glancing around. It was once a silver nobles’ room; it is grander than my own.

The chamber is filled with the crisp scent of cedarwood, which is burning in braziers. The early morning light filters through the window over the marble floor and frescoes on the walls of dragons in flight.

I stealthily stalk past the writing table, which is covered with military treatises and rolled parchments of scribbled work, which Ignatius must have stayed up working on late for me.

He is truly a committed secretary.

My lip curls back in disgust, as I study the Omega who is sleeping in bed next to him.

The Omega who has tricked him.

The would-be murderer.

I approach the sleeping, naked couple in the bed, who are wrapped in blankets.

I step onto the low, marble dais. The bed is carved from mountain ash with dragon-shaped posts and a canopy that is stitched with stars. The center has been built into a nest with goose feather pillows.

Dispassionately, I stare down at the Omega who is curled around Ignatius with his nose nuzzled against his Alpha’s scent gland in his sleep. His arm is slung around Ignatius’ middle.

Like this, Aquila’s expression is soft.

He suddenly looks young.

Seeing them sleeping together, you wouldn’t know that they were enemies.

That the Omega is abusing his Alpha.

That one of them is planning to kill the other.

Unless, of course, you looked close enough to see the bruises darkening Ignatius’ skin.

My eyes blaze.

I reach down and grab Aquila by the scruff of the neck, dragging him out of the nest.

He awakes with a shout of pain, clawing at my hand.

I ignore him, hauling him off the bed and bumping down the marble dais. Aquila bangs his hip and then his knees against the floor.

My claws slice into his scalp. Blood trails down his temples.

Aquila screams, “Iggy!”

Ignatius wakes up in alarm. “Your Majesty!”

“Stay out of this,” I snarl. “Your dragon rider is a traitor.”

Ignatius throws the blanket off himself and dives out of the bed. “Let him go.”

“Don’t command your King.” I hurl Aquila onto the marble floor. He stares up at me with terrified eyes. His scent sours in distress, and my heart pangs. I hate treating Omegas like this, even ones like Aquila. “Awake now?”

Ignatius snatches up his sword, which is resting by the side of the bed.