Page 20 of Alpha's Kiss

I stood over Rory as I said the words that would bind him. They were ancient words of power and rarely spoken out loud. It was a serious thing to bind another witch’s magic and downright dangerous when dealing with a warlock. When I finished, I almost expected the earth to shake or something momentous to happen, considering who he was, but nothing did. I wondered why my father’s court magicians had been so afraid. Vesper had passed her powers onto this son of hers, and why, when they first tried to bind her, had they thought it would take several of them to do it? It had been easy for me.

Unless I hadn’t bound his magic at all.

The fact that I thought I had easily bound Rory might mean that he wasn’t nearly as powerful as his mother had been. Or it could mean that he was just as powerful and batted my attempt away, like a troublesome fly. I hoped that wasn’t the case. My brother had been very explicit about what would happen if I couldn’t do it.

Rory stared up at me with a pouting look when it was over, and I was strongly tempted to kiss that pout right off his sweet mouth—but I restrained myself. I sat back down, letting Brandon and Wyatt get the fire going and take food from the packs so we could eat something before getting back on our way at dusk. Asher began to fix our food, and Wyatt helped as I sat there and brooded.

I had decided to travel only at night until we got some distance between us and the Igellan castle, not only to avoid any attempts to reclaim him by King Elam, but also because it would be safer that way with an omega like Rory, whom I still hadn’t claimed. I’d tried to scent mark all over him that day earlier in bed, but if we were to run into another pack of Alphas, we’d no doubt have to fight for him, as delicious as he smelled, not to mention how beautiful he was and considering he had no bite marks. I couldn’t claim him yet, because we didn’t have the time. It would take at least a full night for me to bite him and knot him properly, even though until he went through his full heat, my knotting wouldn’t be as intense or last as long. I still wanted to do it. But we had a long way to go yet and a lot ahead of us when we got there.

But gods, I’d be glad to get back home.

Our lodge lay just across the border into Morovia, and being so close, we got an occasional tradesman from Igella, who kept us informed of what was happening in that kingdom. We had known for some time about the king’s deteriorating health issues and about how his second wife, Queen Berinda was frantically conducting a search for an Alpha and his pack to marry their omega son, Rory. But I didn’t know the full details until my brother had told me. The rumors I’d heard said that the young prince was plain and barren to boot, so his stepmother was having some problems finding anyone suitable.

It wasn’t until we opened up negotiations with Berinda that we found the real reason for the boy’s lack of suitors. His stepmother also wanted someone to arrange an “accident” for him after he took the throne. That so-called accident would open up the perpetrators to charges of regicide, even though Rory would never officially become the king or take the throne. He was still the rightful heir, and the punishment, should someone be caught, would be a long and painful death by torture.

Small wonder then that so far, there had been no takers, but eventually Berinda would find someone. It was only a matter of time, and there had never been a shortage of unscrupulous Alphas in the world. Time was running out for Prince Rory.

We knew all of this, as did our king, who just happened to be my eldest brother, Harrison. My brother had sent for me a little over a month earlier, telling me he needed to speak to me on an urgent matter.

Harrison was older than I was, thirty-one to my twenty-four, so we had never been exactly close, though I greatly admired him. He was a handsome man and still in his prime, while King Elam of Igella was failing in health and probably not long for this world. The contrast was striking.

“The cease fire between us and Igella has been going on for a while now, but there have been recent tensions. I think things are going to start up again soon. I could attack Igella and simply take it over,” Harrison told me as I visited his palace at his request. “It’s at its weakest point in the last fifty years or so.”

We were in Harrison’s private parlor, sipping a glass of the red wine my brother favored. Harrison said it might relax me, because I was “too wound up.” It was what he always said when we were together. He said I took after our father, who was a great king in his day, but easily angered and unpredictable in that anger.

“I sometimes wonder if this war is ever going to be over,” Harrison said, sounding tired and a bit dejected.

Igella had long coveted our country, because of Morovia’s rich agricultural resources. The soil in our kingdom was dark, fertile, well-drained soil with a good supply of essential nutrients. It was great for growing most anything. Igella, on the other hand, had clay soil, which was alkaline and no good for farming. They struggled to feed the people in their kingdom. About a hundred years earlier, in the way of too many Alphas, their king had decided it would be much simpler to simply fight us and take whatever he needed instead of trading for it. The back-and-forth battles had been raging between our two nations ever since.

At least that was a big part of it. Our two countries had other fundamental differences too. Take religion and magic for instance. In our world, the two were deeply intertwined.

In Morovia, we had always embraced magic and thought of it as a gift to us from the gods. White magic, that is, or the good kind. Over our long history, we had seen the evils of black magic and had forbidden its use within our borders. In our religion, practicing it was considered one of the greatest sins any of us could commit. Even as late as twenty years ago, the penalty for possessing knowledge of the black arts had been death. Now we were more enlightened, and we simply bound a warlock’s powers if and when we found them. And then, if he or she’d already committed crimes, we dealt with those as well.

Unless the warlock’s powers were too strong to be bound—then the penalty was death.

“Why don’t you end the war then?” I asked, responding to my brother’s earlier statement, because like all of us, I was sick of the war with Igella and the toll it took on our people. “Negotiate a treaty.”

My brother drained his glass and signaled to a servant to refill it.

“I’m not willing to give anything away to Igella, because why should we? If we simply stopped fighting, that would mean their council would start up the raids against our farmers again and they’d steal more land. No, I’d have to crush Igella to get their council to stop, and I don’t have the stomach for it. The Igellan people don’t want this war either. And war is a costly thing, besides. I’d like to avoid another one if I could, but I keep hearing rumors about this queen of Elam’s, Queen Berinda. I hear she’s ambitious, and I fear her influence.”

“I’ve heard the same,” I told him. “People say she’s trying to marry off her omega stepson to some Alpha who would become Regent and who would then kill the omega son as soon as he could, thus becoming king himself due to Igella’s strange inheritance laws. Berinda’s daughter, would step in and become his queen, and she and this Berinda would keep their comfortable lifestyle.”

“I’ve heard those rumors too. And we can’t allow that to happen.”

I smiled. “We can’t?”

“No. I don’t want someone corrupt enough to murder her own stepson, the heir to the throne of a country so close to our kingdom. A country whose people and ours share a lot of history and common values. We have to intervene.”

“How do you propose we do that? Fight more endless battles? Our people are tired of fighting. Yes, we could win, but again, at what cost? Our farmers need to be behind the plow and not the cannons.”

He turned to look over at me. “You’re right and I’ve been giving it some consideration. That’s where you come in, little brother.”

“Me?”

Harris smiled and nodded. “Yes, you. I almost hesitated to ask you because I know how you are.”

“Oh? And how am I?”

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