Chapter 2 Mocked by Fate

Kael

Power is quiet when you’re born into it. People think it's loud, but it isn’t. They think it roars, demands, and dominates. The truth is that real power moves in silence. Behind the scenes. That power is what earns me the bowed heads, cleared hallways, and doors opening before I reach them. I walk through the eastern corridor of the palace with my hands in my pockets and the guards straighten their posture. Servants lower their eyes and no one speaks unless they’re spoken to. That’s exactly how it should be.

“Reports from the western packs came in this morning,” Adrian, my future Beta, says beside me. “Several of the low ranking packs are asking for lighter work quotas this season.”

“Denied,” I say without slowing down. “They’ll manage.”

“The Ashwood Pack is one of them. Didn’t that punk just take over for his father?” Marcus, my Gamma, asks.

I don’t react. Ashwood means nothing to me. Most of the packs mean nothing to me. They’re just numbers on paper. Resources. Bodies. That’s how my father has always taught me to see them.

“The council is meeting at noon,” Adrian adds. “The King expects you there.” 

Of course he does. Everything is a test. It’s all about control.

“I’ll be there,” I say, rolling my eyes as we turn toward the service wing. 

I rarely come down this hall. Servants move pretty quickly here, keeping their heads down. They carry crates and baskets or whatever they need for their tasks, trying to take up as little space as possible. It’s efficient and predictable. Just the way I like it.

Something inside of me snaps out of nowhere and I stop walking. It’s not quite pain, but pressure. Like an invisible hand has wrapped around my heart and is slowly beginning to squeeze. Adrian takes two more steps before noticing.

“Kael?”

I don’t answer and then the scent hits me. It’s soft, warm, sweet, and wrong. My instincts surge. The word I have dreaded ever hearing my Lycan say emerges from my mouth fully formed.

“Mate.”

I turn my body and see her standing near the wall, holding folded linens against her chest. She’s plain and small, but somehow the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on. Her red hair is pulled back carelessly and her green eyes are wide as she stares at me like I’m the dangerous one. She’s an Omega and I know it the instant I see her. Everything in me recoils. This is wrong. Fate doesn’t bind princes to Omegas. Not in Elaris. Not ever. The pressure in my chest gets heavier and suddenly my skin feels too tight. My heartbeat is too loud. 

I take a step back and before I realize it, I’m moving back down the corridor. She swallows and her fingers tighten around the cloth, signaling she feels this damned bond too. She doesn’t approach me. Her eyes hold nothing but fear as she stares at me. Good. Fear means distance and distance means control. I turn away, walking as fast as I can. If I don’t look at her, she doesn’t exist. That’s the only way I’ll survive this. Marcus and Adrian jog to catch up, falling into step beside me.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Marcus says and I shake my head.

“I’m fine,” I lie. I have perfected the skill of lying thanks to my father.

I keep moving until we reach the training yard. The sound of steel clashing and shouts echoing fill the air. The smell of sweat, blood, and dominance is strong here. This is where I belong. Not in narrow hallways with trembling Omega servants. I strip off my shirt and grab a practice blade, a group of warriors immediately forming with sharp, hopeful eyes. Everyone wants to be the one who lands a hit on the Crown Prince. The one who defeats me in a sparring match. I don’t give them that satisfaction. I fight harder than necessary. I welcome the burn in my muscles and ache in my shoulders. Pain is simple. Pain is honest. Unfortunately for me, even as I drive my opponent into the ground, I can still smell her. Not physically, but inside my head and under my skin. It doesn’t fade or weaken. It doesn’t obey my desire to reject it.

When I finally step away, sweat-soaked and irritated, a cluster of noblemen’s daughters wait for me at the edge of the yard. They always do. Perfect hair, painted lips, and hope in their eyes. I couldn’t tell you one of their names and I don’t care to know them either. I never take any of them to bed more than once and I never speak to them again after they’ve been in my bed.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” one of them says as she steps forward. “My name is Selby.” I study her for a moment. She is beautiful and they usually are, but I feel nothing. No attraction. No interest. Not even irritation. Just emptiness. All because of that damn Omega.

“Not today,” I sigh, walking past her. 

I hear the groans of disappointment rippling through the group, but they scatter quickly. They’ll be back. They always come back and think they’ll be different, but they never are and they won’t be because none of them comes close to anything real with me. I shower and change, preparing for the council meeting, but the entire time she is there in my thoughts and chest like a splinter I can’t pull out.

By the time I reach the council chambers, my patience is gone. My father sits at the head of the long table. King Theron Elaris. He stares at me with cold eyes and perfect posture.

“You’re late,” he says.

“I arrived when I chose to,” I reply and a flicker of anger crosses his expression. Good. I sit down and listen to the council drone on and on about borders, resources, and disputes, but I hear none of it. Why? Because I’m thinking about an Omega servant with trembling hands and that alone makes me angry. At her. At myself. At fate. I decide then and there that I will find out who she is and where she comes from. I don’t know why fate thinks it can mock me, but once I confirm what I need, I will reject her publicly and completely. I will not let an Omega become my weakness and I will not let fate decide my future. Not now. Not ever.