I forced myself to examine my brother’s body properly, pushing past the gore to read the story written in wounds. The defensive marks on Laziel’s hands suggested he fought back. Deep gouges on his forearms where he’d tried to protect his face and throat.
The clinical part of my mind acknowledged the possibility of Rhea being the culprit, while my mate instincts roared with denial.
“The omega quarters should have been secured,” Harrison observed, careful to keep the accusation from his tone. “Standard protocol during heat situations.”
“My son had every right to move freely in his home,” Lucinda snapped. “This is his house, his birthright. That omega should have been locked up the moment her heat started, not spreading her legs for the king.”
The crude words made several council members shift uncomfortably. But none defended Rhea. No one pointed out that I’d been the one to drag her from the ceremony, that she’d tried to leave when her heat hit. The narrative was already forming: a calculating omega who’d used her body to trap a king and murder a prince.
But why would Laziel visit her chambers at midnight? The question nagged as I studied the evidence. My brother wasn’t stupid. He knew the dangers of approaching an omega in heat, especially one newly mated. The territorial instincts alone should have kept him away. Unless he’d had another reason. Unless someone had asked him to go.
“Where is she now?” I asked, not trusting myself to say her name.
“She is outside,” Harrison replied. “The guards went to the Thornback residence with a full unit. We couldn’t risk her escaping.”
Escaping. Like she was already convicted. The mate bond flared with fresh panic, strong enough to make me stumble. She was terrified, confused even. She felt betrayed that I wasn’t there, that I wasn’t protecting her. The irony tasted bitter.
How could I protect her from justice when my brother’s blood demanded it?
They brought Rhea in chains that seemed excessive for an omega, but I didn’t protest. She looked smaller in custody, the fierce woman who clawed my back during sex last night and this morning reduced to a culprit. Her eyes found mine immediately, green depths pleading for intervention.
The trial proceeded with the formalities our territory required. She denied every charge with increasing desperation, her voice breaking when she described waking to guards and gore. But she couldn’t explain Laziel’s presence or the locked door that should have kept him out. Her parents sat in custody beside her, her father’s political career evaporating with each testimony. Lucinda watched like an avenging angel, tears cutting channels through perfect makeup.
“I would never hurt him. Damon, please,” Rhea begged, and the sound of my name on her lips made a blade twist in my chest. Just last night, she had screamed it in passion. Now she wielded it like a weapon, trying to pierce through my walls.
“The evidence speaks louder than denials,” I said, voice cold because anything else would shatter me. The council nodded approval at my objectivity, but inside I was screaming.
The bond between us screamed her innocence, but grief roared louder. My wolf wanted to tear apart anyone who threatened our mate. But the man, the king, the brother, needed justice for the Kildare blood spilled. The two parts of me were tearing apart, and I could feel Rhea experiencing every fracture through our connection.
Witnesses testified. Servants who’d heard nothing. Guards who’d been mysteriously assigned elsewhere. The case built itself while Rhea grew quieter, her pleas fading as she realized I wouldn’t save her. Each time she looked at me, I saw the hope dim a little more.
“The preliminary evidence suggests,” Harrison began formally, “that the omega Rhea, in a state of heat frenzy, did attack and kill Laziel Kildare when he entered her chambers. Whether premeditated or spontaneous requires further investigation.”
“No investigation needed,” Lucinda declared. “She’s guilty. My son’s blood is on her hands and her hands alone.”
The council murmured agreement. The evidence was damning. The politics were clear. An omega had killed the prince. That omega must pay, mate bond or not. They looked to me for judgment, for the words that would seal her fate.
I rose from my seat, feeling the weight of the crown I’d barely worn.
Rhea must have sensed the shift in me. Her pleas stopped mid-word. Those green eyes that had looked at me with such trust, such need, now watched me with growing understanding. She was reading my face, seeing the choice I was making. Blood over bond. Family over mate.
“The evidence is substantial,” I began, my voice carrying through the silent hall. “The investigation will continue, but…”
I paused, meeting her gaze one final time. Rhea’s eyes shifted from pleading to something harder, and I witnessed the moment she stopped begging and started surviving.
8
— • —
Damon
Guards flanked her, unnecessary given the chains but symbolically important. The council needed to see her treated as the threat they believed her to be. The hope that had sustained her through the night’s interrogation died, replaced by a harder edge. An edge that should have warned me.
“Rhea Thornback, you stand accused of murdering Laziel Kildare in a heat-driven rage.” My voice carried the formal cadence required by law, emotionless as stone. Inside, the mate bond writhed like a living thing, flooding me with her emotions. Betrayal, disbelief, rage beginning to kindle. “The evidence presented shows opportunity, means, and motive. You were found with his body in your room, his blood painting your walls.”
The words came from a script as old as our laws, modified only by the specific details of the crime. I’d memorized them this morning while the council prepared the hall, while my mother supervised every detail to ensure maximum impact. A public trial broadcast to every territory, showing the new king’s commitment to justice over personal bonds. Showing that omega manipulation would not be tolerated, no matter how high it reached.
“The evidence is circumstantial,” Rhea said, her voice steady despite everything.
