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“Thank you, Mari. I appreciate that,” Fadon said, his voice rough from grief, something he hadn’t really ever experienced before.
He took the letter, broke the seal, and opened it. News of Sierra couldn't wait.
She is recovering. The danger has passed. Ready to leave in five days. I wish to arrange a meeting place due to the distance and hardship of the journey. As you can imagine, we are lacking provisions. Your brother must be in attendance. Respond as soon as you get this and send to the Basilica.
—Demos
Fadon passed the letter to Mari, who was growing impatient. As she read, he looked back at his brother.
“It’s good news. We’re to arrange a meet-up, which you must attend,” Fadon explained to Ander. “They haven’t the provisions to make the journey to the Mor.” When his brother didn’t respond, Fadon added more. “All her possessions are here. Demos has one horse. Besides whatever he happened to be carrying in his saddlebags that night, they have nothing.” When the younger prince still didn’t respond, Fadon put it more succinctly. “She was practically naked, Ander, when he took her that night.”
Still nothing. Ander’s eyes were lost in a glassy haze, staring at the floor.
Fadon grew angry. “What the fuck is wrong with you? An omega is out there, with that Owl bastard, naked and ready to come home—to you, mind—and your response is nothing? If she were mine…”
Ander blinked. Fadon swallowed down the anger.
He had no idea why his brother was so despondent. Fadon knew Ander hadn’t wanted to marry, knew he had wanted nothing to do with the Fealty from the very beginning, sending Fadon in his place because of some trouble Ander refused to confide. But this was unacceptable.
Apparently, Mari’s thoughts ran along the same lines. She stood and got in Lysander’s face. “Wake up! I may have indulged you by letting our brother go get the girl in your stead, but this?” She waved a jeweled hand over his person. “For the first time in our lifetimes an unclaimed omega will be at Goth Mor Helle, Ander. Omega. And she yours! For weeks, all you’ve done is sulk and do nothing but grumble in my presence, which you rarely grace me with because you’re too busy fucking everything that walks the halls.”
She growled, and the sound made Fadon straighten in his seat, his blood responding to his alpha queen.
Her mouth was near Ander’s ear, and he didn’t even react when she hissed, “Titus doesn’t revolve around you, dearest brother. You will go through with the ceremony and you will claim her. Our line will continue.”
She turned away from him and walked over to the sideboard. After pouring herself a drink, she tossed it back and slammed the glass down. “Fadon, send a reply that both of you will meet at Syrus Crossing. You may only bring one of your men, and he must be Beta. We don’t want a repeat of what happened.”
Fadon did a quick mental calculation of the distance from here to Syrus Crossing, which was directly south, at the base of Great Mountain and to the east of the Basilica. “Four days from here to Syrus Crossing, with five days here to prepare. I’ll need clothing, blankets. The mountain will be too cold for her, and, Ongar willing, the skies will be clear.
“She’s Omega now, Fadon,” Mari said, her words coming out almost breathless. “Cold won’t bother her.”
He slowly nodded. That was right. It would make traveling much easier. The thought of her being Omega almost made him break out in a sweat. He still thought of her as the eighteen-year-old stubborn girl, delicate and easy to break. She was so much more now.
Mari swished by, her dressing gown like a living thing. She sat back in her chair, her cheeks rosy, obsidian eyes shining. “I’ll arrange everything and make sure your remaining men are taken care of. You can ride Demona, give Apollo a break.” She broke out into a wide smile. “Oh, I can’t wait to meet her, Fadon.”
Ongar help us. And he had worried about Sierra surviving the Mor before he’d learned she was Omega. Now? The attention that would be coming her way once she came through the gates of Goth Mor Helle might just kill her from suffocation.
He found himself smiling as well.
An omega, after all this time.
For the first time since that horrible night, Fadon felt hope. Soon she’d be home, and a new chapter would be written. Now he just needed to get his wayward brother’s ass moving. He’d have plenty of time on the way to the meet-up, however.
He hoped.
After a few more minutes, they ended the discussion, and Fadon bid them goodnight. He dragged himself to his room and to his desk, writing a short reply to Demos’ letter, which he gave to Aldor, who waited patiently at Fadon’s door. Once that was done, Fadon undressed in record time and fell instantly asleep, sprawled across his bed.
He spent the next few days in a blur of court discussions, visiting Jon, whose mangled leg was slowly re-knitting. Lysander had made himself scarce, and Fadon only saw him once, at dinner. But Fadon never had an opportunity to speak with him, having spent the rest of his time with his men. The loss of the warriors who’d died that night in the snowstorm had hit them hard. As soon as Fadon returned with the omega, he planned on having a ceremony to remember his fallen men.
The time to leave had come. Before the sun was even a possibility, Fadon was checking over the saddlebags in the stables. He’d already woken Lysander, broke his fast, and checked on Jon—who was faring better now that he was home—and was ready to leave in twenty-minutes’ time. He had chosen Arik to ride out with them. Fadon trusted him not only because he was Beta but he had also been a friend of his Father’s. The older man was known for a steady head and a calm demeanor, both of which would be needed as buffer between Fadon and his brother.
“Where in Titus is he? It’s time to go,” Fadon growled, getting more impatient as the minutes ticked by and still no sign of his brother. He and Arik were mounted, having just packed the food that had been sent over from the kitchens. All that was needed was Ander.
He spied a skinny figure lurking near the path to the stables. Ander’s valet. Fadon spurred Demona forward and met the boy before the latter had a chance to run off. “You. Where is your master?”
The boy, a beta male no older than twenty and two, stared wide-eyed at the captain. He glanced around, as if Lysander would appear any moment to rescue him. He swallowed. “Uh… Prince, uh, Lysander wanted me to give you—” he cleared his throat— “this, my lord.” He held out a grubby letter.
Fadon reached down and grabbed it in haste, before tearing it open to read its contents. A moment later, he rolled it into a ball and threw it on the ground. The boy ran off. Fadon whistled for a stableman. When one appeared, he asked him to unsaddle Aspen, the prince’s horse, and add the load to Demona and to Arik’s mount, that they wouldn’t be needing the additional horse. When that was done, Fadon waved Arik over.
