Page 17 of Vicious Kings
"I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree," I say with a rueful smile.
"You should rest," he says, turning to leave. "The suppressants will keep the worst at bay, but your body needs time to recover. Once you're stable, you'll be processed."
"Processed?"
He pauses at the door, looking back with those impossible purple eyes. "You're an unregistered omega. The authorities will need to determine how to proceed once you're in less pitiful condition."
The judgment in his tone makes me want to leap off this bed and show him exactly how pitiful I'm not. But my traitorous body won't cooperate, so I settle for glaring holes in his perfect face.
"Of course," he adds, almost as an afterthought, "given your unique circumstances, I imagine you'll be quite the sensation once you're integrated with the others."
The door closes behind him, the seams vanishing into the wall just as before, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and a body that feels like it belongs to someone else. I lift one hand to my neck, fingers finding the collar. It's smooth, cool to the touch, and completely seamless, just like the wall. No buckle, no clasp, no visible way to remove it.
Enchanted, then. Of course it is. Can't have the new sheep running off before she's been properly marked and assigned to whatever fate they deem appropriate.
But I'm here.
I'm in Valemyre, exactly where I need to be.
The how doesn't matter. Thewhydoesn't matter. All that matters is that I'm one step closer to Prince Corvinus.
One step closer to completing my mission.
Six
BILLIE
The sunbeam hitting my face through the enchanted window has earned an enemy for life.
Five fucking days I've been trapped in this gilded cage, and the Fae still haven't figured out what to do with their unexpected omega problem.
At least it'sfive.
Not that I'm complaining about the accommodations. The bed alone probably costs more than most humans see in a lifetime, and the sheets get changed twice a day by staff who look at me like I'm either a precious jewel or a particularly interesting zoo animal.
Hard to tell which.
I've tested every possible escape route. The window? Enchanted to feel solid as stone when I try to open it, despite looking like regular glass. The hidden door? Locked with magic that makes my fingers tingle when I touch the handle too long.
And this fucking collar around my neck heats up whenever I try to fuck with it, like a warning shot across the bow.
The worst part is how they always know what I'm doing. I'll be elbow-deep in trying to pry open an air vent when suddenly—oh look!—a nurse needs to check my vitals.
Or I'll be testing the bathroom window's enchantments when a doctor conveniently remembers they forgot to ask about my medical history for the umpteenth time. It's like they've got me on supernatural surveillance.
At least the heat is gone. That particular nightmare ended about twelve hours after I woke up here, leaving me feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. Dr. Helwood explained it was the suppressants doing their job, but I caught the way he kept checking his notes, like even he wasn't sure how my body would react to their treatments.
Apparently, wild omegas are unpredictable.
Who knew?
The food arrives on schedule, because of course it does. Everything here runs like clockwork. The tray practically floats through the door, carried by a servant who won't make eye contact. Today's lunch is some kind of roasted bird with a fancy name I don't care to remember accompanied by vegetables I've never seen before and spongy bread that smells like heaven.
It's obscene. Children starve outside the human farm cities while the Fae serve their pets food that belongs at a royal banquet.
The thought kills what little appetite I had.
I push the tray away and return to my favorite pastime, which is counting. Five tiles from the bed to the bathroom. Five steps from the window to the door. Five seconds between each tick of the ornate clock on the wall.
