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The water in the tub was no longer a comforting warmth; it was now a cold, biting reminder of Arion's futility. He scrubbed his skin until it was raw and stinging, but the shame remained, a pervasive, invisible mark far worse than the one on his belly. He was a warrior, a man of strength and honor, but he had been reduced to a weeping mess, scrubbing himself clean of a filth only he could feel. He was a pawn, a possession, and the weight of that truth was a physical burden, threatening to pull him under the water entirely.
Meanwhile, in the grand Council chambers, the air was as thick and charged as it had been in the hallway. Kyon stood at the head of the table, his posture perfect, his face a serene mask. His father, the King, a man whose favor was a fickle and dangerous thing, looked at him with a disdain that was barely veiled.
"Son," the King's voice boomed across the room, his eyes scanning the faces of his counselors. "I trust you haven't forgotten your morning ritual? Your omega suppressants?"
A ripple of low chuckles and knowing smiles spread through the room. They all knew of Kyon's heritage, a heritage his father had never allowed him to forget. To them, he was not just an alpha, but a half-breed, a flaw in a perfect bloodline. But Kyon didn't flinch. He met his father's gaze, his own eyes as cold and hard as obsidian.
"Of course, Father," Kyon replied, his voice a steady, melodic baritone. "As you've always said, it would be a shame to lose control."
The laughter died down, replaced by a tense, expectant silence. Kyon had never been a man to be swayed by insults. He had built his power on his intelligence, his manipulation, and his unshakeable self-control.
Just as the King was about to move on, Cassian spoke, his voice smooth as velvet, but with a sharp edge. "Speaking of control, Father, I've been considering my new bodyguard. I've heard rumors of a certain warrior with a reputation for both strength and... loyalty. I would like to request that he be assigned to my personal guard."
The room grew still. Everyone knew that a bodyguard was more than a shield; they were a confidant, an extension of one's power. The King, intrigued by his older son's brazenness, leaned forward. "A curious request. What is the name of this warrior?"
A smirk, slow and deliberate, spread across Cassian's face. He knew he had Kyon trapped. The name he was about to speak would either expose Kyon's secret or force him to concede a devastating defeat. The game was no longer a simple sibling rivalry; it was a battle for a soul.