Wrath of a King - FF Omegaverse Fantasy Romance, page 28
The flames from my right wrist sputtered tellingly, but I forced myself to push, push, and push again.
Any and all thought leached from my brain. I moved on pure instinct, letting muscle memory take over each laser-sharp swipe of flames, searing necks and spearing through chests.
My vision began to flicker, a grayish haze creeping into the corners. The stream of fire weakened with each passing blink, and I heard my name being called as though from a distance.
Olympia.
My bones rattled as the ground shook with unrelenting fervor, warning of an oncoming attack. The air vibrated with the familiar scent of Olympia’s magic.
I had the forethought to step back, although my weakened knees almost buckled as I did.
Razor sharp stalagmites burst forth from the forest floor, flaying each borderland Alpha as they fought the flames that plagued them.
The assault was unexpected. Almanera’s mouth gaped open in shock as his lifeless body lay in the air, speared through with earth magic. His hands cupped the exit wound, his grip weakening until he surrendered to death.
As the flames waned, power leached out of me, entwined with the blood that pooled at my feet.
I pitched headfirst into the dirt, consciousness leaving my body with one final gust of air.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Olympia
The trembling wouldn’t cease.
My body shook and shuddered as I attempted to recover from the overexertion.
Bile rose in my throat, threatening to spill forth the churning juices in my empty stomach.
I choked on air that was thick with fire sorcerer energy—vibrating with the after-effects of the battle. I raised a hand to my chest, slapping it roughly against my sternum, but oxygen still wouldn’t flow freely.
I couldn’t look at them… The lives I had taken out of necessity. They lay in various states of contortion, speared through by the deathly sharp tips of hardened soil.
The blood, the entrails, the whispers of their agony… It was too much.
It was kill or be killed.
Even the knowledge of the truth couldn’t fortify my conscience.
I knelt in the ashes of singed leaves, staring down at my darkened palms. Patches of soil clung to my skin, reflecting dully under the setting sun. In my weakened state, the patches seemed like smudges of dark blood, making my chest constrict further.
Like my ancestors before, I had always sworn to use my powers for good. Earth enchantment was a peaceful power to wield—a blessing from the Earth Goddess herself. It was never meant to harm others. A hopeless wail filled my chest, trapped in the finite confines.
A dull thud broke the hazy spiral of panic and self-pity. I glanced up to find Zoei in the dirt, unmoving.
A sob welled and broke free of my lips.
Ash and dirt crunched under my knees as I crawled to her, calling her name. The scent of fresh blood and singed flesh turned my stomach as I placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to tip her over.
But I was too weak. All strength had drained out of me with the last burst of stalagmites.
“Please,” I whispered, unaware if I was petitioning Zoei’s unhearing ears or the omnipotent powers of my Goddess. “Please, please, please.”
Several pairs of hands appeared mere seconds later, shifting Zoei with ease. The red and gold colors were a welcome sight, and I almost sobbed as they spoke.
“Your Highness, are you hurt?”
I shook my head, reaching for Zoei’s hand. I clasped it in mine, hating the sudden coolness of her skin. She was always warm—always too warm.
“She’s hurt,” I said, although I assumed they could smell her open wound. “Our hovercraft crashed yesterday, and she was trapped under a piece of metal. It tore into her thigh.”
A soldier knelt in front of us, an intense frown on his brow. One of the three badges on his uniform indicated that he was also a medic.
“Her Majesty has lost a lot of blood,” he murmured, feeling for Zoei’s vitals with his fingers. “She’s breathing, but it’s shallow. We need to get her back to the palace for an immediate blood transfusion. The wound needs to be cleaned and monitored for signs of infection.”
I agreed voicelessly, letting the soldiers lift her to a standing position. Zoei made a soft sound like a restless breath, but was otherwise silent.
“Are you hurt?” The medic directed the question at me again, and I shook my head, pushing to my feet with a noticeable stagger.
Their arms shot out to steady me, but I refused the help, holding my head high.
I dragged in a shallow breath, wiping my damp palms on my stained and torn trousers.
“I need these bodies transported back to Highblade Palace,” I said in a voice that would have made my mother proud. “Contact Vetri’s borderland sentinels and order them to stand guard in Boroville. No one goes in and out of that village until a full investigation is complete.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“There are Agnivale soldiers lying dead in a clearing about one mile south. We need to make arrangements for them.”
The soldiers shared a quick glance.
“We can handle that.”
“And…” I swallowed, brushing tangled curls out of my face.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
I forced one foot in front of the other, following the small group of soldiers, presumably to their transport.
“Inform my mother that I’m alive and… well.” I almost choked on the last word.
“Should I arrange for one of the hovercrafts to take you home to Summerstream Fortress?” one of the soldiers asked courteously.
I shook my head quickly, and regretted the dizzy spell after.
“I’m staying,” I insisted, my lips numb. “I’m staying with Zoei until she wakes up.”
Until. Not if. I refused to think about if.
As they bundled her into the hovercraft, elevating her feet against the window, I grasped her fingers between my own, attempting to rub some warmth into her cool skin.
Perhaps it was hopeful thinking, or simply the yearning of my soul, but for a moment, I believed her fingers twitched, assuring me that everything was going to be okay.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Olympia
I didn’t deserve her.
Cryssa was an angel among us mortals, and I was not worthy of a single silky hair on her head.
I was certainly not deserving of her kindness, love, and sweet nature—not after the sinful way I had acted with Zoei. Over and over again, I had defied Cryssa’s trust and devotion. Repaid her loyalty by taking Zoei deep in my cunt, yearning for more, begging, screaming, pleading…
Even now, as I sat deflated in the north wing’s library at Highblade Palace, my every thought lingered on Zoei. It had only been thirty minutes since I’d left her side to take the meeting with Cryssa, but my breaths were short with worry.
What if Zoei had taken a turn for the worse while I was gone? Her breathing had been unstable all evening, even though the medic had ensured me she was receiving the best care.
I placed a palm against my forehead, trying to soothe the pounding ache. The rasp of the bandages covering my hands was a reminder that I hadn’t left the battle unscarred. Countless splinters had embedded themselves deep into in my palms, and the medical assistant had sweated over me for hours while trying to extract each one.
Now, it was almost midnight. Zoei’s painkillers would be wearing off soon, and I wasn’t there to look into her eyes when she awakened.
“Olympia?” Cryssa questioned softly. “Sweetheart?”
Guilt heated my blood.
Cryssa had sped from Boroville to Highblade Palace the moment she heard of my return. She had been frantic and panic-ridden, embracing me with sweet relief.
How typical of Cryssa to throw herself into searching for me without passing the job to our security team as most would do. She was genuine and true, with no concern other than my well-being.
As she sat across from me in the library, pouring steaming tea into little porcelain mugs, loving words tumbled from her lips. How she hoped I was all right after the ordeal, that Almanera deserved what had happened to him, that she would help me heal my mind and body while increasing security around our fortress…
The words were a blur.
All I could focus on was the memory of Zoei falling headfirst into the dirt, barely moving.
“You’re shaking.” Cryssa’s glasses reflected the warm light of the solar lamps as she perched on the armrest next to me. Dark curls fell across her bosom, brushing against the exposed vee of her neckline. My gaze strayed to her abundant curves for just a moment before flitting away guiltily. I had no right to look, not any longer.
I could not pretend. I would not pretend.
“Take this,” she urged, pressing a warm mug of herbal tea into my palms. “It’ll calm you down.”
My fingers were numb as I accepted the tea, surprised at the weight of it. I glanced down, staring into the trembling surface of the water, but found that it was nothing more than my guilt weighing down the steaming mug.
“Cryssa.” Goddess, how could I say her name when I had wronged her so thoroughly? I cleared my throat and tried again.
“I need to tell you something.”
Her fingers caressed my cheek as she pushed stray curls away from my face.
“Of course. Anything.”
“I fear you will see me in a different light,” I confessed, gripping the mug tight.
She paused, a line creasing her forehead. “Something happened while Zoei Highblade held you hostage.”
My tongue turned to sandpaper—my voice a harsh rasp. “Yes.”
Cryssa slid off the armrest, retracting the warmth of her scent and skin. I wondered if she meant to punish me by withholding the comfort of the familiar, and surmised I would deserve it, if that was her intention.
She took a seat across from me instead, taking a moment to adjust the pleats in her trousers. I watched her chest billow with breath, as though she were bracing for the worst.
Her features gave nothing away. Deep brown eyes reflected nothing more than concern and curiosity.
“Go on,” she urged, placing her palms evenly on her knees. “I’m ready.”
“I…” The words withered away, and I sipped the tasteless tea for a moment’s reprieve. “Zoei and I… We…”
My gaze strayed to the grand portrait above Cryssa’s head, seeking the artist’s rendition of nature for a measure of resolve.
“Fucked?”
I’d never heard Cryssa curse before, not in the privacy of our rooms and certainly never in public. The abrasive word grazed my skin, and I sat upright as though at the mercy of a lash.
The curse seemed to linger between us for an eternity. I tried to analyze the word, pry apart the tenor of her voice to grasp how she was feeling. But not so much as the inflection gave her away. She sounded cool, calm, collected—as though she was speaking to the council rather than her intended mate.
Unlike her, I wore my guilt like a cape, wrapping it tightly around my frame.
Finally, Cryssa sighed, breaking the silence.
“I suppose I should’ve known.”
My gaze shot to hers, uncomprehending.
“What do you mean?” I queried.
“I saw the way she looked at you.” Cryssa’s lips flattened into a thin line. “The night of her coronation, I watched you dance. I saw the tension that lingered between the two of you. And her eyes… It was as if she were starving, and you were the only thing that could satisfy her hunger.”
I swallowed, the sound echoing too loudly.
“But I thought,” she continued, pausing for breath. “I thought you weren’t interested in pleasure. I offer it all the time and you push me away… So, I assumed sex didn’t interest you, but companionship did. Some people are like that, and it would have been all right with me. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?”
I scrambled for something to say—anything that would abate the sting of this conversation.
“You are interested in pleasure,” Cryssa concluded, straightening her spine as though preparing for battle. “Just not… Not with me.”
“It’s not your fault!” I hastened to assure her, setting the mug down before the trembling in my fingers sent it flying to the carpet.
Cryssa’s smile held just the briefest tinge of sadness.
“I know it’s not my fault, sweet Alpha,” she said, her voice low. “At least up here.”
She tapped the side of her temple with her fingertip.
“But in here,” she said, her palm hovering over her heart. “It feels like I’ve failed.”
“Cryssa…” Her name was strangled on my tongue.
There was much to say—apologies, explanations, regrets. I grappled with the riot of emotions inside me, knowing Cryssa deserved so much more than I could have ever given her. She deserved a mate who cherished her and worshiped every step she took—someone who would spend their days trying to make her smile.
Not someone who would invite the attention of another Alpha without remorse.
“There is nothing wrong with you, Cryssa. You need to know that. I’ve always cherished you in my life. You’re smart and beautiful and capable…”
“Please, stop.”
“You are the perfect embodiment of an omega—in every way. I know how incredibly lucky I am that you chose me when a score of other Alphas were vying for your attention—”
“Enough, Olympia!” She stood too quickly, the edge of her knee bumping against the table between us. The mug tipped over, spilling steaming tea across the wood. “I don’t need your placations!”
Her scent soured in the span of a heartbeat, and she crossed her arms over her chest, gazing down at the splatter of tea. I scented the air, trying not to grimace at the acidity of her pheromones. Disappointment, anger, and regret lingered between us, and I wished I could wash it all away with my words.
I rose, but didn’t step forward.
Every part of Cryssa screamed that she needed her space, from her taut muscles to the tense edge of her jaw. When she crossed to the far window, I didn’t follow.
The night was still. Nary a breeze rustled the flowers in the grand garden below.
“What can I do?” I asked, wondering if she could scent my desperation to make things right. “Tell me what to do, Cryssa.”
She was silent, her back ramrod straight as she gazed at a fixed point in the distance. The glow of the twin moons shimmered in her dark eyes, and I thought foolishly that she had never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment.
But she deserved more. So much more than to be a mere crystal in my collection—a decorative piece that was envied by everyone behind a glass case.
“I don’t care if you fuck her.” The words were uttered quietly through gritted teeth, and I tried not to recoil from the venom in her words.
“I don’t care,” she repeated. “But you will not embarrass me in court. Our wedding will proceed as planned.”
“But I—”
Cryssa shook her head curtly. “You asked what you can do—this is what I need from you, Olympia. Your silence. Your loyalty. Even if it is in name alone.”
I swallowed the ball of fear that lodged painfully in my throat.
“Could you truly live like that?” I queried, watching a lock of her hair slide over her shoulder to frame her face. “What about love? What about passion? I-I can’t give that to you, Cryssa. I’ve tried.”
Her fingers gripped the windowsill. “I know you’ve tried. Trust me—I saw how hard you tried to make me happy. That’s what’s important, isn’t it? Trying.”
She turned with a flutter of skirts, and moonlight spilled across her back. “You have a good heart, sweet Alpha. You treat me well, and you allow me the freedom to do as I wish. Perhaps it’s my age, but I do not welcome change. I picked you, just as you picked me. We had our reasons for wanting this life. I think we could be happy.”
Happy?
The word descended over me like the devil’s own quilt, encasing my frame in its thorny folds. A shivering tension pressed on my chest, smothering me with its weight. My limbs stiffened under the echoing assault of a single word, and I wondered when I had last felt true happiness.
