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“Fiala and Dusan, my mate needs bodyguards at all times when I’m not with her. I want her guards to be able to carry her swiftly to safety if the need arises. I have the utmost respect for wingrunners. The two of you were at the Battle of Fliesch Monastery, weren’t you?”
They seem astonished that I know this, but I saw these two wingrunners take out a detachment of Brethren archers, alternating dive attacks from the air with ground attacks.
“Yes, we were,Ma’len.”
“I’m asking if you would like to volunteer to guard my mate.” I fold my arms and regard them solemnly. “Think carefully before accepting. She’s a handful for an Omega, and I value her life more highly than I value my own.”
The two wingrunners glance at each other, have a short but silent conversation that consists of raised eyebrows and small nods, and then turn back to me.
“We would be honored,Ma’len.”
“Are you certain?” I ask, a grim note entering my voice. “If anything happens to my Omega while I’m not with her, if she so much as stubs her toe, I’ll take you up into the skies and hurl you from Scourge.”
“Yes, Ma’len,” they say smartly in unison.
I think I can trust them to protect her. The wingrunners are some of my most tenacious, committed soldiers, and they go above and beyond in battle. These two seem as energetic as any of them. It’s not just their prowess that I’m thinking about. They will spend a great deal of time with Isavelle, talking to her about Maledin and probably about me as well, and hopefully they will become her friends. She’s bound to ask them questions that she should be asking me.
“My mate has been raised as a human, and as her Alpha, it’s my duty to teach her what our designations mean. My duty. Not yours. Is that clear?”
I watch the pair of them through narrowed eyes, hunting for the tiniest flicker of derision or amusement. Secretly, Betas think of Alphas as snorting, shouting pains in the neck who overreact to every provocation.
They’re correct.
We are exactly like that.
But if an Alpha is losing their shit, it’s usually for a good reason. I don’t want a couple of Betas to fill her head with a load of nonsense about what goes on between Alphas and their Omegas, or to teach Isavelle to ignore or make fun of my very real concerns for her safety. I’m her mate, and it’s my duty to see that she’s protected and happy, even if sometimes they’re watching over her in my stead.
“Yes,Ma’len,” they say again, without a flicker of impertinence in their eyes. No doubt it’s there, Betas are justlikethat, but hopefully the threat of my wrath is enough for them to hold their damn tongues.
I relax a little and say, “Good. Thank you. Please go and introduce yourselves to Isavelle. Knowing my mate, she’ll tell you she doesn’t want bodyguards, so you’ll have to convince her that she wants you around.”
“How do we do that,Ma’len?”
I rest my wrist on the hilt of my sword and give them a bored look. “I don’t know. You Betas are always bragging that you’re so relaxing to be around. Why don’t you show my mate an average good time at some of your neither excellent nor terrible Beta haunts? She could probably use some downtime after being dazzled by me for days on end.” I allow the corner of my mouth to turn up so they know I’m not being totally serious.
I am dazzling, though.
Both the wingrunners’ mouths twitch. “As you wish,Ma’len,” they say, before bowing their heads.
I turn away and head back into the castle. Hopefully they’ll help Isavelle relax into life in the capital as well as keep her safe. She’s been miserable, afraid, and in pain for more than a year, and the constant intensity when we’re close to each other isn’t making her happy. Isavelle’s happiness means more to me than she can possibly know.
13
Isavelle
Ipass a terrible night in my bed, tossing and turning while my stomach churns. The brief moments when I am asleep, I’m plagued by nightmares of being burned alive. When I awaken with a gasp, I see over and over in my mind’s eye the moment that Scourge incinerated those two Brethren.
Zabriel. Where is Zabriel? He’s here in the castle and must be sleeping somewhere nearby. I could go to him and slip into his strong embrace. I think I’d feel safe in his arms, but then what? Mate this. Queen that. The man is impossible.
Instead, I lay miserably in my bed and long for him, and then I feel disgusted with myself for it.
At breakfast, the doors to the Great Hall are open and the clouds are heavy and oppressive as I nibble unhappily at a pear. Yesterday I was filled with energy and determination, but now I feel like I’ve been trampled into the dirt by a herd of stampeding dragons. I rub the nape of my neck, wincing. Why does itacheso?
I get to my feet and head outside for something to do when a voice drifts over from another table.
“…back to Joryan tomorrow.”
I whirl around and grab hold of the speaker’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, did you just say you’re from Joryan?” Joryan is a town at least twenty miles from Amriste, but if this person is from there, that’s closer than anyone else I’ve talked to.
