(Keal’s POV)
The scent of lavender and lemon clung to the air in the Royal Palace, a pathetic attempt to mask the truth. My truth. Underneath the layers of soap and the hastily applied scent blockers, I was an Omega. A male Omega. A walking, breathing impossibility in the Kingdom of Veridia.
Veridia was an elegant enclosure, a society built on the backs of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, each with their designated role. Alphas were the leaders, the protectors, the dominant force. Betas were the backbone, the workers, the organizers, filling the gaps between the Alphas and Omegas. And Omegas… Omegas were meant to be delicate, submissive, the bearers of children. Female Omegas, that is.
Male Omegas? We were whispered about in hushed tones, branded as cursed, an abomination against nature. Most were quietly…disposed of at birth. My mother, Elara, a former palace maid who now takes care of the palace garden, had risked everything to keep me alive.
Each day was a performance. I walked, talked, and acted like a Beta. It was a constant, exhausting act, one I couldn't afford to slip up on, not even for a second, otherwise, it would be my doom.
“Kael! Are you slacking off again?” The gruff voice of Barnaby, the head cook, ripped me from my thoughts. He was a mountain of a man, a Beta with a perpetually sour expression. My stomach clenched. “Those vegetables aren’t going to chop themselves. Prince Alaric's birthday feast isn't getting any closer.”
"Sorry, Barnaby," I mumbled, grabbing a knife and throwing myself into slicing carrots. The work was mindless, but it kept me out of sight, away from prying eyes and sensitive noses. The kitchen was a chaotic symphony of clanging pots and shouted orders, a good place to disappear.
"Honestly, boy, you're as clumsy as a newborn foal," Barnaby grumbled, but he didn't press further. I was small for my age, and my build was more…delicate than most Beta males. It made me an easy target. The other servants, mostly Alphas and Betas, enjoyed their little jabs, their casual cruelties.
“Heard the Prince is turning thirty-one,” a Beta named Gareth said, sidling up beside me. He reeked of sweat and arrogance, a typical Alpha wannabe. “Still unmated. Pathetic, isn’t it? A Prince without an heir. Makes you wonder if he’s even a real Alpha.”
I kept my head down, focusing on the carrots. "I wouldn't know," I muttered, my voice barely a whisper.
Gareth chuckled, a nasty sound. “Oh, but you will, won’t you, Kael? You serve him his food, clean his chambers… maybe one day you’ll accidentally brush against him and finally trigger his Alpha instincts. Imagine that, a lowly Beta servant finally giving the Prince what he needs. I mean, seems he can't seem to get it from an omega, maybe he prefers Betas. " He winked, and a knot of anxiety twisted in my gut.
“Leave him alone, Gareth,” a sharp voice cut through the air. It was Maeve, a Beta girl who worked in the laundry. She was one of the few who didn't treat me like dirt. "He's just doing his job."
Gareth sneered at her, then back at me. “Just saying, Maeve. Some people are just…destined to be useful, in one way or another." He sauntered off, leaving me with a cold dread settling in my bones.
Later, as I scrubbed the palace floors, I overheard snippets of conversation. Prince Alaric this, Prince Alaric that. Everyone was buzzing about his upcoming birthday celebration. It was the social event of the year, a carefully orchestrated display of wealth and power. More importantly, it was another opportunity for the eligible Omegas of the kingdom to try and catch the Prince's eye.
"They say he's too picky," one maid whispered to another, dusting an ornate vase. "He's turned down so many perfectly good Omegas. Some female Betas too."
"Maybe he's waiting for a sign," the other replied, giggling. "A true mate, destined by the Moon Goddess herself."
I scoffed inwardly. Destiny was a luxury I couldn't afford. My destiny was to survive, to remain hidden, to protect my mother.
Speaking of my mother, she works in the palace gardens. I managed to steal a few moments with her during my break, finding her tending a bed of roses. Her hands, once strong and capable, were now gnarled with age and arthritis.
"Kael, my love," she said, her voice raspy but filled with warmth. "You look tired. Are they treating you well?"
"They're good… and I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just busy with the Prince's birthday preparations.”
Her eyes clouded with worry. “Be careful, Kael. The palace… It's a dangerous place. Especially for you."
"I know, Mama," I said, taking her hand. Her skin was papery thin, and I could feel the fragility of her bones beneath. "I'm always careful."
She squeezed my hand tightly. "I still regret it, you know? Keeping you here, in the palace. I should have taken you away, far away from all this."
"Don't, Mama," I pleaded. "You did what you had to do. You saved my life."
She sighed, her gaze drifting towards the palace walls. "I was blinded by love, and I was so foolish. I thought… I thought maybe, if I kept you close, I could protect you. But I was wrong. All I've done is put you in more danger."
The unspoken truth hung heavy between us. My father. He was the reason we were trapped in this gilded cage. He was the reason I had to hide. He was a member of the Royal Family who later went rogue; leaving me to be a bastard son of an unknown rogue.
“The scent blockers,” she said, her voice regaining its strength. “Are they working? Are you using them religiously?”
“Of course, Mama. I reapply every few hours. I even started using the extra strength ones. I’m fine.” I hated lying to her, but I couldn’t bear to add to her worries. The scent blockers were barely effective as my scent keeps getting stronger with each passing day. My Omega scent, even suppressed, was a constant threat, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
That evening, back in the cramped servant quarters, I lay on my thin mattress, staring at the ceiling. The sounds of the palace – music, laughter, the clatter of dishes – echoed around me, a constant reminder of the world I could never be a part of.
I thought about Prince Alaric. I'd seen him only a few times, usually from a distance as I couldn't raise my head to look at him every time I got to serve him. He was a striking figure, tall and powerfully built, with the regal bearing of a true Alpha. He always seemed so…distant, so burdened. The weight of the kingdom rested on his shoulders, and the pressure to find a suitable mate must be immense.
I wondered what he was really like behind the mask of royalty. Did he ever dream of escaping the confines of the palace, of shedding the expectations and finding someone he truly loved? Or was he destined to marry for duty, for political gain, sacrificing his own happiness for the sake of the kingdom?
A wave of longing washed over me, a foolish, impossible desire. I was a servant, a hidden Omega, an abomination. He was a Prince, an Alpha, the future of Veridia. We lived in separate worlds, separated by an unbridgeable chasm of social hierarchy and biological destiny.
And yet… a tiny spark of hope flickered within me, fueled by the whispers of fate and the undeniable pull of a bond I couldn't comprehend. A bond that could destroy me. What am I even thinking? I guess scent blocker can't block the Omega's mind in me because a servant having a crush on the heir to the throne is a common fantasy for omegas. Why couldn't I just be a Beta or an Alpha like other males? The moon goddess definitely didn't fancy me very much; a product of a secret affair between a royal member who went rogue and a palace maid. That kind of relations
hip would surely not produce the best child. So here I am, having to survive rather than live.
The world hushed around them.The only sound was the soft rustle of blossoms stirred by the breeze, the faint catch of their breaths as they held on to each other. Words had emptied out. There was nothing left to say that grief hadn’t already said for them.So they sat.Shoulder to shoulder. Heart to heart.Kael’s fingers clutched at Alaric’s tunic like a lifeline, and Alaric’s arm circled him, steady, anchoring. Their bodies trembled with the aftershocks of mourning, but slowly, slowly the sobs dulled into silence.The sun dipped.The sky blushed, then dimmed, then deepened into velvet black. They didn’t notice. They couldn’t feel time.Until the first glow sparked.And then another.And another.Fireflies. Dozens, then hundreds, rising out of the grass and hovering in a shifting veil of golden-green light over the mound where their son lay. The blossoms shimmered under their glow, the tiny lights flickering as if answering some unseen call.Alaric’s throat burned as he leaned closer
Silas rose slowly, his chair scraping softly against the stone. He pressed a trembling hand to Alaric’s shoulder, gave it a firm, lingering pat, and when Alaric looked up, Silas’s eyes were wet. The man’s throat bobbed with words he didn’t speak, then he turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him, leaving them alone.For a long moment, Alaric just stared at Kael, his mate, his anchor, and yet now a ghost of himself. Every breath Alaric tried to take felt like it splintered his ribs. Finally, he leaned forward, cupping Kael’s pale face between his hands. His thumbs brushed along cold, hollowed cheeks. His voice broke low, raw, but steady enough to reach Kael.“I missed you,” he whispered. Just three words, though a storm of others fought to claw out of him; ‘I thought I lost you.’ ‘I would’ve torn the world apart to find you.’ ‘What happened to you?’ ‘What happened to our child?’ ‘I can’t stand seeing you like this.’ But none of it found his tongue— only I missed you.Alaric s
Trumpets split the air. Drums thundered from the palace towers, rolling across the hills and crashing like waves over the capital.“His Royal Highness, Prince Alaric, has returned!” voices roared from the walls.Alaric rode at the head of his men, the Veridian banner snapping high above him. Dust clung to his cloak, his body still sore from every wound, but he sat tall in the saddle. Behind him, warriors marched, their armor gleaming in the morning sun. The gates yawned open, and the flood of sound swallowed them whole.The palace spilled out in full ceremony. Courtiers in silks, guards in shining mail, priests raising their hands in blessing, an ocean of faces bowed and waited, the road to the palace lined with petals thrown from baskets. At the top, King Theron stood on the low platform of carved marble, elevated above them all, his silver crown catching the sun.Alaric dismounted. Each step across the courtyard was heavy, his muscles dragging with exhaustion, but his gaze stayed fi
The crown felt heavier than a huge portion of oak wood, even though it wasn’t on Aaron’s head yet.“All hail King Aaron.”The words still echoed in his skull as he stood in the great hall, his body rooted like stone while the world swirled around him. Advisors whispered. Servants bustled. Guards shifted. And still he stood, silent, sick with grief, as if his father’s death had carved a hole straight through him.He wanted to drink again. To drown. To run back to the battlefield and scream into the cliffs until his lungs burst. Anything but this. Anything but kingship.But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not when so many eyes watched him, weighing his every breath, his every silence.It was Alaric who stirred him. A hand — bruised, cut, unsteady — pressed briefly to his shoulder, grounding him. Aaron blinked and looked at him, the Veridian prince as battered as the war itself, but still standing. Still here.And then word reached them.“The king’s body rests in his chamber. The queen awai
The courtyard reeked of steel, sweat, and horsehide, yet beneath it all lay the sharper scent of tension. Veridian soldiers stood in ranks, their cloaks battered, their blades still stained from Selvane’s blood. They should have been preparing to march home, and should have been returning in triumph with their prince.But their prince was gone.Aaron stood before them, bottle in hand, his red cloak slipping from one shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot, and the hollows beneath them looked carved out by sleepless nights. He swayed faintly, but his voice carried when he finally spoke.“You should have been home already.” He raised the bottle, took a sharp swallow, and lowered it again with a grimace. “But I can’t—won’t—send you back without him. Not like this. Not with empty hands, empty saddles.” His throat bobbed. “Not with Veridia’s crown waiting for a son who hasn’t returned.”A ripple passed through the soldiers. They had been hardened in battle, yet there was something desperate, unf
The morning light had no warmth.It spilled across the chamber in thin, sharp lines, touching Kael where he sat curled on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t moved since the night before.The baby was still in his arms.Kael’s lips had gone pale, almost bloodless. His eyes, once bright, burned an unnatural red, the veins spiderwebbing through them from hours of tears that would no longer fall. His body had withered in the space of a single night. The softness of pregnancy, the fullness of his cheeks, the gentle swell that had made him glow… all of it had collapsed inward. He looked carved out, hollow, a ghost of the boy he had been just days ago.And the baby… the tiny bundle wrapped so carefully… had darkened. The skin no longer soft, but dusky purple, the stillness undeniable.No one in the room spoke.No one dared.Theron stood like a stone at the far wall, fists locked at his sides, jaw iron tight. Elara sat near the bed, her hands clasped so hard her knuckles had gone white, eyes swol