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Fadon sighed, knowing to question or beg to stay was futile. Rubbing his face, he bowed to his queen and left the room.
He made his way to the kitchens. It was late, after midnight, so he knew no one was around. Fortunately, there was always something to scrounge up in the way of a decent meal.
Several pots of something sat warming on one of the hearth racks. He made himself a bowl of stew, grabbed a couple of rolls from a cloth covered basket, and sat down at one of the servants’ tables near the back.
He was almost finished when Ander came strolling in. The prince hadn’t seen him yet. Fadon watched him riffle through a few drawers. His brother seemed irritated as he moved through the various contents until he seemed satisfied, holding up a corkscrew.
“How is the omega?” Fadon asked, spoon lifted to his mouth.
The drawer slammed shut with a metallic clang, corkscrew dropping to the floor. Ander straightened, startled, his eyes wide.
“Fadon. I hadn’t noticed you were here.”
“I gathered that.” He scraped his bowl, finished the last spoonful, and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “Well?” He stood, bowl in hand.
Ander bent and picked up the corkscrew as Fadon set the spoon and bowl into a vat of water, knowing the kitchen staff would have a fit if Fadon didn’t leave them to soak.
“She’s in her room, probably asleep.” Ander leaned against the baking table and fiddled with the corkscrew, tracing the coil of metal with his finger. “Aside from the fact that she’s Omega, the Owl chose well. She’s lovely, really.”
Fadon crossed his arms over his chest as he studied his brother. Ander was in a pensive mood. Fadon wanted to take advantage of it. He needed to tell him a few things, and now was the perfect time.
“It hasn’t been mentioned, Ander, but we have to assume that Servant Demos more than likely had to ease her. Her estrus almost killed her, Demos said, and I’m sure even the strongest tonics wouldn’t have been able to provide her enough relief.”
“And why are you telling me this? I’m glad she survived, glad the Servant kept her alive.” Ander’s brow pinched in confusion. “Stop beating around the bush, Fadon. What is it you want to say?”
“He fucked her, Ander. Probably for days. Are you okay with that?”
Ander looked away but didn’t reply. Fadon went on.
“I want to make sure you don’t punish her for it. Had your ass been there, you would have been her first. She would’ve been claimed before her estrus peaked, and my men—”
“Would still be alive,” Ander finished for him, looking at Fadon with a mix of hurt and shame. “I know. I’m sorry, Fadon. No one, no one, could have predicted her being Omega.”
“True, but you still should have married the girl in Providence.” He stared into his brother’s whiskey-colored eyes. “She’s worthy of our respect, Ander. And not just because she’s an omega. She is good, kind, smart. Nothing like I had expected, not some milquetoast country girl or conceited brat. She’ll make you a good wife and mother to your children.”
He saw his brother swallow before Ander looked away again, crossing his arms, corkscrew gleaming in the torchlight.
Fadon moved closer and placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Will you tell me what in Ongar’s name is going on? Whatever it is, let me help you. Is it some chit you’re attached to?”
Ander shrugged off his brother’s touch and pushed away from the table. “There is nothing the matter.”
Frustration surged in Fadon, making him want to get inside Ander’s head, to pull the information out like a coiled ribbon. Fadon had always let Ander just be, as if his brother were a pet that lived in the manse, sometimes annoying but always around somewhere, in the halls or the stables. But now the prince had the biggest role to play in the Ongahri. No longer could he play at being the spoiled royal, the reveler, the heir to the throne on paper only. He needed to buck up, grow up, and step up.
“For the life of me, Lysander, I can’t understand these reactions. I can’t help but think there’s something very wrong going on. I need to know,” he said slowly, “if you’re going to do your duty, Ander. She needs to be claimed. With all the alphas here—”
Ander slammed his fist down on a table. “Dammit, I know, okay? I fucking know! Stop talking to me like I’m a child, Fadon.” His face was red, eyes flashing.
After a moment, Ander took a deep breath, finding some composure. “I didn’t ask for any of this.” He held up a hand before his brother could retort. “I’m not like you, Fadon. Which I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he said dryly. “Nor am I like Mari. Sometimes I feel…” He looked up, as if the answers were waiting there on the ceiling. “Like it would be better if I just left. Give the title of heir to you.”
Shocked, Fadon didn’t move a muscle. It was the second time he’d heard any kind of authenticity from his younger brother, the first being that day their sister announced the Fealty.
For a moment Fadon could see it all clearly. Mari on her throne, himself at her side in his, as Prince, next in line. His wife the omega, who Fadon would claim and bond, who he’d take every night, coming inside her and filling her sweet cunt with his seed. Her belly swollen with his child.
Her scent all over him, her silver-kissed hair wrapped around his fist as he drank from her mouth like the sweetest wine on Titus.
“See? You understand exactly what I mean,” Ander said softly. He laughed. “Your brains, your leadership. Comes so easily to you. And I know you fancy her. I can smell the musk coming off you. It’s funny how life works, isn’t it? You’d be in my place if only Father hadn’t fucked Mother the night—”
Fadon’s fist flew into Ander’s face. A cracking sound echoed in the kitchen. Blood dripped from Ander’s nose. He wiped it away with the sleeve of his tunic as if it were nothing but a bit of food on his mouth.
