What the hell is wrong with me? Less than a minute ago, we were talking about people dying.

“What’s a cold Omega?” Gabriel asks.

“I… Excuse me?”

“You’re a healer. Explain it to me like I’m the ignorant fuck we both know I am. What’s wrong with a cold Omega, physically? Biologically?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I’m curious.”

I click my tongue, annoyed, wondering whether he’s experimenting with a new twisted way to hurt me. But then I hear myself say, “We’re just… The development of our Omega sexual characteristics halted abruptly, and no drugs or lifestyle changes were able to restart it.” He seems lost in thought. I notice the deep frown on his brow, and wonder what it would take to smooth it over. “Sir? Are you okay?”

He clears his throat. Shifts back, as if to get away from me. “Yes, Lady Larsen.”

I roll my eyes. “You know, I’ve been considering this matter.”

“Which one?”

“Whether it’s correct for you to call me that. Since my mating with Lennart is not yet complete—thanks to you—I don’t think you should.” A beat. “Yet.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. Still, he smiles. “Yet.”

“Are you going to send me back untouched? Or are you here to finish what you started?” I tilt my head. “Or what you didn’t start?”

“I’m here because I got hungry following my morning sparring session.”

Despite myself, I laugh. “I bet you’re the kind of Alpha who wakes up two hours before everyone else to train.”

“And I bet you’re the kind of Omega who stays up two hours longer than everyone else to read.”

How does he know?

We stare at each other, and I could swear that his lips are twitching upward.

“Is your seneschal really mated to your deputy commander? Did I get it right?”

“You did. Yes.”

Wow. Look at me go. “Does he treat all the Omegas who share your bed like they’re fish excrement?”

“What if I told you that there hasn’t been anyone else?”

“I’d ask if you hit your head while sparring.”

He laughs. “I do fuck Omegas. But not in my bed.”

“How so?”

“I find that their scents tend to linger. Overstay their welcome.”

That explains why his quarters smell only like him. “Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “I won’t make the mistake of thinking that being the exception makes me special.” I cock my head in something that could almost be friendly. Flirty, Lara would call it. “What really makes me special is that you haven’t taken me, isn’t it?”

It’s his turn to say, “Yet. I haven’t taken you yet, Sofia.” I briefly wonder if he plans to wipe the table clean with his arm and fuck me right on top of it in the next three minutes, right before I’m allowed to return home.

For a split second, the look in his eyes has me almost certain he’s considering the same.

“Is that why Bastian wants to feed me to the oceans? Because I’m soiling your room with my scent?”

“Bastian has no say in what I get off to. The reason he doesn’t like you is your unfortunate association with the Larsens—and because of his allegiance to Martia.”

“What does that mean? Why would that make her hate me?”

“Martia and I were engineering soldiers together.”

“I still don’t understand. How would that make her hate⁠—”

“We served under Kuznetsov.”

I pause, surprised and confused. The truth is, I knew from my father that the soldier who would go on to become General Agard had served under him for a period of time. But that was a while ago, and I had no way of knowing if Gabriel remembered or even cared about an old commanding officer. The fact that he did makes me absolutely delighted. I miss my father. Enjoy hearing him brought up. Relish any opportunity to discuss him. “Why didn’t…?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Were you aware that I was his daughter? Why didn’t you say that before?”

His laughter is of the hollow, angry kind. “There’s no need to pretend, Sofia. This is very disingenuous, even for a newly minted Larsen.”

“I… Excuse me? Pretend what?”

“That you didn’t have us banned from his funeral.”

My mouth falls open. “I didn’t.”

“Lady Larsen spoke to my seneschal herself. She said that you didn’t want us there⁠—”

“Gabriel, I would never. When my father died, even if I cared about political allegiances or about what the hell happened between you and Lord Larsen, I would have never prevented someone who cared about my father from… There must have been a misunderstanding. Lady Larsen wouldn’t⁠—”

“I think,” he growls, his icy eyes suddenly inches from mine, “you will find that when it comes to you, Lady Larsen absolutely would.”

We regard each other, a heavy silence between us as I try to untangle his words. If Lady Larsen indeed told Bastian something like that, she must have meant well. Perhaps she was afraid that the general’s presence would lead to tensions that might ruin the ceremony.

“I gave her a message for you,” Gabriel says. “A letter. Did she pass it along?”

I swallow. Shake my head. Glance at the large circular window while I massage my sternum to soothe the hollow ache in my chest. “What did it say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His tone seems to suggest the opposite. “No need to worry your oblivious little head over it, Lady Larsen. You are very good at not noticing what happens around you.”

“How dare you⁠—”

“Gabe,” someone calls from the entrance.

It’s Martia. But I don’t turn toward her, and neither does Gabriel.

“They’re here,” she adds.

“Tell Lennart that he’s going to have to wait until I’m done using his mate,” Gabriel orders.

I should flinch at the crude words, but they simply don’t hurt enough. Maybe I’m too angry. Or maybe it’s the idea that it elicits—him really using me like an Alpha would an Omega. It makes my belly warmer. Instantly, as if in response, Gabriel’s nostrils flare.

“It’s not Lennart,” Martia says.

At last, we look at her with twin scowls.

“Who did they send?” Gabriel asks.

“Four guards.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

His frown etches deeper. “You’re joking, right? You can’t be fucking serious.”

“What did you expect from a spineless coward like Lennart?” Martia sneers.

I should object to that. Defend my mate. Say that they shouldn’t talk about him like that, but… My head spins, and I cannot make sense of what I’m feeling. It is odd that Lennart, with whom I should have spent last night, is suddenly too busy to show up for me.

Even odder is Gabriel’s slow, triumphant cheek-to-cheek grin. He stands without a word, heading outside the dining room.

After a moment of hesitation, I run after him.

Chapter 13

THE RETRIEVAL Sofia

No one stops me as I follow a few feet after Gabriel, halting when he does in front of the commander of Lord Larsen’s personal guard.

“You expect me to hand over an unprotected Omega to you?” Gabriel asks. He is unarmed, wearing the thin shirt and pants that soldiers usually put on for physical training—a stark contrast to the commander’s red armor and multiple weapons. And yet, it’s the guard who takes a cautionary step back.

“She will not be unprotected. As you can see, I have three escorts with me.”

“All of whom are Alphas. None of whom are her mate.”

I wonder why Lennart didn’t come. Maybe he simply didn’t know the correct protocol for the Right of the First Night, but he could have found out. He belongs to one of the oldest families in the stronghold and has infinite resources at his disposal. The result is that his absence looks bad. Like a provocation. Like Lennart is playing with fire—and with my life.

How could he?

House Larsen’s commander must know that the general would never murder a House’s emissary in cold blood. Still, he looks like he’d rather throw himself from the top of the keep than be here. “Sir, I have been personally instructed by Lord Larsen to⁠—”