Chapter 50

Stirling Vance

The cold rain in the capital did nothing to cool the anger burning inside me. It only turned the dirt in the outer courtyard into wet mud that stuck to my heavy leather boots.

I leaned against the shadow of a large marble pillar overlooking the East Wing gallery. My thick wool cloak covered my broad shoulders, keeping the rain off the linen bandages wrapped around my ribs.

Every breath I took reminded me of the injury Crown Prince Callan had given me with his broadsword. During the Gala, the royal Alpha had fought like a madman in the gardens after the strong scent of heat filled the Grand Conservatory.

Callan thought he was the only one who had noticed the strange change in the air that night.

He was wrong.

I narrowed my amber eyes as I watched two people walking down the long, torch-lit corridor about thirty paces away.

Commander Jace Corowa walked with the steady, powerful steps of a trained killer. But he wasn’t wearing his usual combat uniform or leading the Vanguard soldiers who guarded the borders. Instead, he wore the silver-and-blue uniform of the Imperial Royal Guard, with his short sword hanging at his side.

Walking right beside him was Prince Elian, taking small, careful steps.

I watched them closely, like a wolf watching two deer crossing an open field.

The court had believed the story the Empress told them that morning. They believed the weak Second Prince had collapsed during the Gala because of his usual lung fever. They also believed the sudden wave of Omega scents had come from a poor, unknown girl who had sneaked into the gardens before Jace killed her.

They also believed that Jace had been demoted to the prince’s personal guard as punishment from the Crown.

It was all a lie. A careless lie meant to protect the royal family’s fragile reputation.

I quietly stepped farther into the shadows, resting one hand on the handle of my broadsword.

I had spent my entire life hunting in the freezing forests of the Northern Territory. I knew the difference between a guard simply escorting a royal prince and a powerful Alpha protecting someone he considered his own.

Jace wasn’t walking behind the prince, and he wasn’t walking ahead of him either. Instead, he kept an exact distance of four feet between them. His large body remained positioned between Elian and every open doorway or archway they passed, as if he were a shield no one could break through.

His eyes rarely stayed on the corridor ahead. He kept looking down at the prince’s small, pale hands and watching his chest rise and fall beneath his high velvet collar.

When two royal servants appeared around the corner carrying heavy baskets of laundry, Jace’s reaction caught my attention.

His hand tightened around his sword. His knuckles turned white, and he lowered his body into a fighting position, ready to attack before the servants had even bowed to them.

That wasn’t ordinary military discipline.

It was the instinct of a dangerous Alpha protecting his territory.

Then the wind shifted, blowing through the tall, open windows of the Gothic gallery.

The cold wind carried a faint scent from the East Wing. It wasn’t the smell of candle wax or the lavender soap the palace servants used. Beneath Jace’s strong scent of cedar and dark earth, there was another smell hiding in the air.

Wild honey. Fresh rain.

My heart began pounding hard against my injured ribs. A sudden wave of heat rushed through my chest, and I took a deep breath, trying to catch the scent.

It was the same smell that had made my teeth ache during the Equinox waltz. The same scent that had made me pull the fragile prince into my arms before Callan tore us apart.

I watched as Prince Elian stopped near a tall archway. He reached out to steady himself against the cold stone wall. His fingers were long, thin, and trembling.

He tilted his head back to catch his breath, causing the stiff lace collar of his tunic to move slightly against his throat.

For a brief moment, the torchlight fell on the skin beneath his jaw.

I froze.

His skin wasn’t smooth and empty. Thin lines covered it, glowing faintly with a golden light. The lines spread outward from two dark marks that looked like deep bites.

My breath caught in my throat.

A mating bite.

The mark left by a dominant Alpha. And beneath it was an ancient golden mark that belonged to a royal bloodline everyone believed had been wiped out thirty years ago during the northern purge.

The sickly prince wasn’t a Beta.

Prince Elian wasn’t even who everyone thought he was.

The weak, quiet boy the Empress had kept hidden in the palace for ten years was actually a woman. An Omega.

And Jace Corowa hadn’t killed the mysterious girl in the gardens. He had claimed her as his mate.

A dark excitement stirred inside me, making me forget the terrible pain in my side.

The Northern House had supported the Empress for decades because she promised to preserve the purity of the imperial bloodline. But if the second child of the royal family was a hidden Omega with the ancient dynasty’s lost powers, then everything the empire stood for was built on lies.

Callan was tearing apart the lower dungeons in search of someone he couldn’t find. The Empress was preparing her council for a fake war. Meanwhile, the most dangerous secret in the kingdom was walking through the palace in a velvet tunic, protected by the deadliest soldier in the army.

I didn’t draw my sword or raise an alarm.

Instead, I waited until Jace and the girl turned the corner toward the royal bedrooms. Their footsteps slowly faded as they disappeared down the hallway.

Then I stepped away from the marble pillar and quietly entered a narrow, dark staircase used by servants. It ran alongside the prince’s private rooms.

If I wanted to find out whether she was a threat that needed to be destroyed or someone who could help me bring down the Empress, I needed to speak to her alone.

Away from Jace. Away from Callan.

I reached a narrow iron door that led behind a tapestry in the prince’s private dressing room. I slipped my thin hunting dagger into the latch and carefully pushed back the rusty bolt. It opened with a quiet metallic sound.

I stepped into the dark room, my heavy boots making no noise against the thick rugs.

The room was cold, but the scent of wild honey and rain was so strong that it almost made me dizzy. It filled the air like sweet wine.

I took three slow steps toward the velvet curtain separating the dressing room from the bedroom.

Suddenly, the sharp point of a steel dagger pressed against the soft skin beneath my chin from behind.

“Take one more step, Lord Vance,” a quiet, rough voice whispered into my ear, “and I’ll make you bleed before you can even call your guards.”