Marianne Lancaster had become Commander of the Rohan Air Force at twenty-three.
In press releases, it had been called a historic event. A testament to meritocracy. Proof that Rohan rewarded strength regardless of gender or pedigree. The truth was less flattering. King Varlen had not promoted her because he admired her. He had done it because dominant alphas like Marianne made people nervous, and dangerous things were easier to monitor when they were placed directly under the crown.
Now, ten years later, she stood in the executive office overlooking the capital, glass walls dimmed to opacity, while Varlen paced like a man personally insulted by gravity itself.
The tablet on his desk still displayed the diplomatic note.
Not from Dax of Saha, but from his Prime Minister, Sahir Admane, an omega male Varlen hated with all his might.
"That man," Varlen snapped, stabbing a finger at the screen, "has no throne, no bloodline, no divine mandate, and yet he sends me a reprimand."
