The chamber was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint sound of Soren's breathing thin, fragile, like a thread ready to snap. Ecclesias sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze locked on the figure before him. Damp hair clung to Soren's temple, his lips pale, his skin cool beneath the silk. His chest rose and fell in shallow rhythm, each breath a battle.
Chel stood near the door, rigid as stone, until Ecclesias's voice cut through the stillness.
"Speak."
Chel swallowed hard. "Your Majesty?"
"You worked beside him for months," Ecclesias said, his tone velvet over steel. "You did not know?"
Chel's throat tightened. "He masked his scent perfectly. He worked like a beta. Even I—being a beta couldn't sense it. I noticed he was acting strangely sometimes… distracted, his hands trembling. But it never happened before. I thought it was exhaustion, nothing more."
Ecclesias's gaze cut through him like a blade, frostfire burning in his eyes. "You thought?" His tone sharpened, lethal calm. "Your thoughts are irrelevant. Truth is all that matters. And the truth is your failure nearly killed him."
Chel stiffened, breath catching, the weight of those words pressing like iron against his throat. For a moment, he wondered if his head would roll before dawn.
A soldier's voice broke the silence from beyond the door.
"Your Majesty, the royal physician seeks entry."
"Enter," Ecclesias said, his tone cutting like steel.
The door opened under strict protocol. Two guards remained stationed outside as the physician stepped in, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the floor.
"Your Majesty."
"Begin," Ecclesias commanded.
The doctor approached the bed, hands steady despite the weight of the King's gaze. He checked Soren's pulse weak, fluttering. His temperature burned high, skin fevered from pheromone overload and exhaustion.
"He's in heat," the doctor murmured, voice trembling. "The suppressant failed under stress. Combined with… your presence, Your Majesty, it overwhelmed his system."
Ecclesias said nothing, but the air thickened with his silence.
The doctor worked quickly an injection to stabilize the heat, IV fluids to restore balance, a sedative to calm his body. Slowly, Soren's breathing steadied. The fever began to ebb, his pulse finding a fragile rhythm. His lashes trembled against pale cheeks, lips soft and parted.
Chel exhaled quietly, relief ghosting across his face.
Ecclesias's voice broke the silence, low and lethal.
"Give me everything classification, condition, and what he needs to survive."
The doctor bowed deeper. "Omega. Rare. Dominant traits. He will recover with rest, hydration, and continued suppressant therapy." He hesitated, then added, "I will send Your Majesty a full written report within the hour detailing his genetic profile, heat cycle, and care requirements."
(Explanation: Dominant omegas are the rarest subtype in Omegaverse hierarchy extremely uncommon, often considered politically valuable because they can influence alphas and betas through pheromonal strength and resilience.)
Ecclesias's jaw tightened, his thoughts slicing through the silence. Rare. Dominant. A secret buried under chains and fear. And now, it was his to claim.
Prepare the royal chambers," Ecclesias said, his voice low, lethal calm. "He will not leave them again."
The attendants bowed and fled like shadows. Chel remained, silent and tense, until Ecclesias's gaze pinned him.
His gaze lingered on Soren as the physician withdrew. His breathing was soft now, steady, his lashes resting like ink against pale skin. Candlelight spilled across his face, revealing a beauty that was not polished or fragile, but raw and devastating a face that could unmake kingdoms. For the first time since the chaos began, something inside Ecclesias stilled. Not hunger. Not possession. A dangerous calm, like the eye of a storm.
"Your service ends here," Ecclesias said, his tone smooth but final, still watching Soren's serene expression. "Send for Lord Arven. Tell him I want a personal attendant chosen for Soren. Someone competent. Someone who will not fail."
Chel bowed deeply, heart pounding. Relief washed through him like a tide. His head would remain on his shoulders. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Ecclesias leaned closer, his fingers brushing Soren's lips soft, parted, helpless. His voice dropped to a whisper, velvet over steel.
"He hid this from me…" His eyes burned like frostfire, hunger coiling in their depths. "But now, nothing will hide him again."
And then, softer, almost to himself:
"Let them prepare everything. He will not wake as a servant… but as a Queen."