Chapter Text
Odell gave up on sleep a few hours before sunrise. The hard cushions of the parlor settee and staring at the cold stone ceiling made her think too much about her wedding night.
She was exhausted. Pinsom taking her aside to discuss next moves, the state of the kingdom, and the work Odell had yet to do to best impress the empress, would have been enough to make her want to sleep for a week.
But tonight, Quentin was dead, Ranford was dead, and she’d murdered Aiden. Three of her sires, gone in a blink.
Maybe I’m too tired to sleep, she wanted to say. There was a joke in there, somewhere, that she wanted to make.
Had she left Heath stationed outside the bedchambers? If she opened the door, could she let him in to chat?
When she finally did kick off her bedding and stretch her muscles, she went deeper into the chambers. Avoiding the possibility of Heath, admittedly.
But she still had reason to worry about Liam.
Tucked under layers of blankets, in the middle of their marriage bed, Liam was fast asleep, curled up like a pillbug.
Odell kneeled beside him, holding her breath, ghosting her fingers to move a tuft of his hair, revealing the skin of his forehead. She touched him with her knuckles, satisfied to feel warm skin, not hot.
The shock and the drugs ended his heat. Dannie was certain he wasn’t pregnant. “I hope it doesn’t upset his cycle too poorly,” Dannie had said, eyes on the floor. “It’s not healthy, if his heats just… stop. He’s still growing.”
Odell pulled her hand away, sick to her bones. She watched him breath for a little, drool slipping onto the pillow, before drawing away.
He had maybe every pillow they owned on the bed, pooled around him. Something like a nest. Something like the little barricade he’d made on their wedding night when he was trying to hide from her and her knot.
Unable to bear leaving him alone anymore than she could bear sleep, Odell instead settled by the window. She peeled open the curtain a rack, to look down into the courtyard, letting moonlight slip along her face.
“Floating down the river,” she muttered, half-whispering.
“Bobbed the letter that I sent
I tied it up with ribbon
Bottled it half-bent….”
Odell’s night shirt was loose, and she brought her arms to her stomach to squeeze the fabric against her skin. Then she closed her arms all the tighter, trying to reach for her opposite ribs, curling herself up against the window, watching the moon.
It felt a little like Papa was going to step up behind her at any moment, hug her, and carry her off to bed. “After the day you had? You deserve some sleep, young lady.”
“Three dead, Papa,” she whispered to the glass, watching her breath frost it. It got so cold at night this far north, even though spring was in bloom. “Three breathing.”
Kline, Pinsom, Lawrent. All hiding in the heart of the empire. She probably couldn’t wait to handle them till she was empress; they’d fight tooth and nail to keep her from having the chance.
She couldn’t undo Papa’s pain anymore than she could with Avery or, now, Liam. But she’d have to keep on evening the score.
“The fish, frogs, and more
Watched it as it went
Not knowing how important
Were my letter’s contents….”
The moon got a little harder to make out as the sky around it got lighter. Behind them, to the east, the sun was beginning to rise.
Down in the courtyard, Odell watched as a carriage was laden up, attending servants and guardsmen overseeing the arrangements. The top of Marsha’s dark blond head was among them.
Marsha stood the same as ever, ordering things about with a brisk efficiency. But then, when no one was looking, Odell watched her grab a flask off her belt and take a swig.
Since when does Marsha drink?
It wasn’t any of her concern. Marsha Winn was Odell’s guard, nothing more or less. Well, less, actually. She’d set up Liam as a lamb to slaughter. She’d gone behind Odell’s back.
At least she was honest about it. Heath kept his betrayal to himself for months. Let you blame yourself for Avery’s death for months.
There was nothing to be done about it. She couldn’t afford to lose both of her guards at once, and she’d made her decision to dismiss Marsha before Chancellor Pinsom had exposed Heath.
Besides, Heath hadn’t driven the blade into Avery’s stomach.
He did what was best for the empire. Marsha did what she thought was best for you.
Odell shifted against the wall, uncomfortable to realize that she distrusted Marsha’s intentions more. Even though she was resolved against the empire, it didn’t make sense for anyone to choose her over it.
She didn’t understand Marsha’s angle. Odell had known Marsha since she was eleven, and didn’t know a thing about the woman.
Maybe she’s fond of you.
Odell rolled her eyes. She’d known the empress and Pinsom just as long. Papa even longer.
Odell pulled the curtain back a little further. As she changed her view, she saw the door opening from the castle to the courtyard. Out came a guard, escorting Sir Bruno.
He seemed to be walking fine, Heath’s lashing or no. His hands weren’t tied either, as he was easily able to shake off the grip of the guard dragging him out. Bruno began yelling something indignant at the man, getting in his face. Probably something about his father.
When Bruno got back to court, he was going to have a story for Chancellor Lawrent. Odell wondered if Lawrent would care enough to avenge him, or if he’d be too embarrassed at Bruno’s bumbling antics.
He won’t take kindly to you holding onto Lynne. He’ll want both of them back from you, not that Quentin’s dead.
Odell relished the idea of Lawrent coming to settle a score with her.
Before Bruno could make too much of a scene so damn early in the morning, Heath came out of the castle as well. Odell watched the top of Heath’s head, the bulk of his shoulders, as he stomped over, standing silently next to the guard.
And the intimidation shut Bruno up, even if for just a second. He was blustering again in a moment, but Odell saw the way Bruno kept his hands to his lapels, then at the small of his back. The flogging had done something to his pride.
There were the manacles; Heath said he was worried that Bruno was going to do something stupid before reaching the empire. Odell hoped that maybe Bruno had gotten all the stupid out of his system, but that was wishful thinking.
She wouldn’t be eager to be sent home in his shoes either.
Heath escorted Bruno to the carriage, and Odell saw Heath attach one side of the manacle to Bruno’s wrist, the other to the carriage’s interior. Bruno was out of sight, but she knew he was in there, glaring, maybe still spluttering, cursing out her as a bastard, Liam as a whore.
When Derrick was brought out into the courtyard–head bowed, shoulders slumped, walking like he’d broken every bone in his body–Odell turned her focus back to the packing of the carriage. She tried not to watch as Heath kept his back to Derrick while Derrick–unfettered–was loaded in.
She did notice Marsha, bowing a farewell to Heath. Heath nodded back, a hand on her shoulder.
Odell squinted. They were all the way down below, and the light was dim, but it looked like they were speaking.
Maybe Heath was warning Marsha to be wary about the increase in crime.
Maybe they were talking about her.
Odell hummed, barely moving her own lips.
“I put a bottle in a river
I swear it was well-meant
For when you learn I love you
My whole world will be content.”
All at once, Marsha was on her horse, the rest of the escort was ready, and the imperial envoy was on its way.
As the carriage rolled past the gates, Odell let go of the curtain, but it stayed open. The window faced west, so sunrise hadn’t quite hit them, but light came in anyway, breaking the gloom of the bedchamber.
The light was hitting the pillows, and she checked to see if Liam had stirred. She nearly jumped out of her skin to see him sitting up in bed, staring at her.
For all she knew, he’d been staring at her the whole time she’d watched the envoy leave.
“You should be resting,” she scolded.
The beam of dim sunlight hit Liam’s hands, in his lap, over the layers of blankets. “You sang that lullaby in the mines. Where’d you learn it?”
Odell stepped away from the curtain, trying to hide her blush in worse lighting. “My papa. But he had a better voice than me.”
“Oh.” Liam picked at the blankets, small, tiny flexes of his fingers. “He didn’t seem the type.”
She’d forgotten they’d met, in the nursery she’d been brought up. Maybe born in. Or had Papa given birth in the capital, in the same castle where she’d been conceived?
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
Liam hummed, “It’s all right. You have a better voice than you think.”
Odell stayed by the window. The weariness was coming back as the sunlight continued to fight through the curtains. You’ve run out of time, the sun seemed to be screaming at her, No more chances for sleep.
“You should be lying down,” Odell said, approaching the end of the bed.
She thought again of their wedding night, and how he’d screamed and chucked a pillow when she’d dared to get this close. How annoyed she’d been, that he thought she was going to rape him.
Liam didn’t move.
Odell gripped the bedknob, squeezing as tight as she could. “Do you need anything? A glass of water?”
“I’m cold.”
“A blanket, then.” There was a pile of them, folded at the end of the bed. She grabbed one off the top, and walked it over.
He just watched her, not even moving when she was at his head, and she held out the blanket. Lost, she spread it out, letting it drop over where she thought his body was under the already thick pile of covers.
Liam just kept watching her, his lips tight, his eyes big, heavy. She was inches away from him, but his scent was still so muted. From the drugs.
The drugs were out of his system by now, surely?
His lavender was distressed, but faint. It was more how she was used to him, before she’d stabbed Avery, back when she gave him as little attention as possible.
“Please, lie back down. You need your sleep.”
Odell turned, stepping away, and he grabbed her wrist.
He’d leaned over, almost untucking himself from the bed. Liam’s mouth was open, his nostrils tight, and his eye on the blankets when he choked out, “Stay. Please.”
Liam’s grip was tighter than hers had been on the bed. Not wanting to lose the hand, but also unwilling to prying him off, Odell sat on the edge of his blankets, and he eased up the pressure.
“All right. I can stay.”
Liam didn’t lie back down. He kept his eyes open, maybe stubbornly so. She could tell he was exhausted too.
With the fringes of his hair blocking the sides of his face, Odell bent forward, trying to get him to look at her again. “Hey. It’s all right. Want another lullaby?”
Teasing didn’t help. He let go of her wrist, at last, but then moved his fingers down, loosely grabbing her hand around the palm.
Going against her instinct not to touch him, Odell reached out, reaching for the hair in his forehead. “Liam—”
He twisted his head, and she pulled her hand back before it could make contact. Eyes so wide, she wasn’t sure he had lids, Liam squeezed her around the hand and said, “I’m ready now.”
At first, she was confused. Then, when she took a breath, she noticed his scent had changed, just a little. A little less distressed.
“Liam. No–”
He leaned forward while pulling her hand. Unstable, Odell fell forward, catching herself on the other hand, until she and Liam were face to face. “Odell. It’s all right. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and… I’m not scared anymore.”
Odell shook his hand off, but Liam just drew up on his knees, putting his arms around her neck.
The blankets slipped off of him, showing off his white nightgown, buttoned up to his chin. He drew her close, and her face almost fell into his bosom until she course-corrected.
Odell brought her hands against his shoulder, trying to push him off. “Stop that.”
Liam had his hands together behind her neck, holding on like his life depended on it. “I’m sorry I ran away. I’m sorry I’ve been such a– we’re married, it’s what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it?”
“Tempting,” she said, patience growing thin, “as your offer may be–”
“You don’t have to worry about hurting me.” Liam let go, flopping back on the bed. “I can handle it.”
Odell cringed, looking away from him and the bed, staring instead at the door, slightly ajar, leading out to the parlor. She was starting to wish she’d stayed there. “Liam, I’m not going to bed you.”
Her pulse was pounding in her throat and wrists. She was starting to sweat under her arms, the bed underneath her too soft, sucking her in.
Scarcely a day after being gang raped, Liam was trying to seduce her.
“The empress decreed we need children. Because- we-” Liam hesitated. “Here, let me…”
Odell held her breath and looked back at him. He had his knees underneath him, and his shaking fingers were fiddling with the buttons on his collar.
“Everything will settle down,” he said, maybe to himself. “Once we have an heir, they’ll leave us alone–”
“Liam, please.” Odell couldn’t help but snapping, every nerve frayed. Her head was starting to pound on top of everything else. “You’re overtired–”
He managed the top button, and horrifyingly, kept working lower.
Odell lunged forward, grabbing his hands to try and stop him. Her heart was pounding, and his scent was buried beneath hers at the burst of stress she felt to see even an inch of his skin. “What are you doing, stop it!”
Liam struggled against her, pulling down his collar, screaming, “Just look!”
Odell stopped, letting him go, easing back along the bed. And, obediently, she looked at the flesh of Liam’s throat.
The mating bite she’d thrust upon him all those months ago was scabbed over. The punctures were all but invisible.
He’d rejected the bite. Or maybe she’d rejected the bond. Maybe the both of them together.
In her mind’s eye, she saw the naked throat of her father, and then him frantically slapping a hand over the scar.
Sick to her stomach, Odell stood up off the bed. Bile raced up her throat, but with her feet on solid ground, she left Liam’s side, and opened the window.
The morning air was cold, but she drank it in, desperate for a deep breath. An escape from their combined scents.
“It won’t stick if we don’t do something, Odell!” Liam was carrying on. She kept her back to him, but heard him shuffling around on the bed. “I don’t know when my next heat is coming, but–”
“Just stop, Liam. Please.”
And, thankfully, he listened.
Odell stuck her forehead against the glass, looking down to the empty courtyard. She looked past it, to the bright sky, over the tips of distant mountains. If she squinted at the horizon, she could imagine she could see the shore.
More than ever in her life, she wanted to make it to the waters and just swim, putting the empire and the north as far behind her as possible.
Did he think it’d be easier now? That he’d more comfortable now that he had some “experience?” Or that she’d be more comfortable in taking his innocence since someone else had beat her to it?
When she’d gotten her heart rate and breathing under control, the smell of her own cherry dying out against a morning breeze, Odell heard a small plop.
Liam was off the bed, a trail of blankets dragged behind him. He was on his knees, small, shaking.
“Please. I’m sorry for everything. If I–” Liam’s shoulders shook. Even with their bond faded, his distress was strong enough to choke her. “If I’d been a better omega from the start, none of this would have—”
“This is not your fault.” Odell let go of the window, reaching her hand out to him. “None of this.”
“I’ve been a bad omega, a bad mate, but, please.” Liam looked up at her, his eyes swimming. His skin had gone all red again, and he was shaking as bad as he had when he cried in her arms yesterday. “Please, I want to be good. I want to start over.”
Odell dropped to one knee, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We can start over. Right now.”
Being back to square one wasn’t new. She and Liam had been going one step forward and three steps back for so long, things had almost come back around to when she was towering over him in the greenhouse and Jacob was waiting to pounce.
Liam threw his arms around her again, burying his face in her neck. He tried to nestle in there, somewhere between what one would expect from a pup and what would expect from their lover. “You’re all I have left, Odell. I promise I’ll be your omega if you’ll keep being my alpha.”
Odell held her breath, forcing herself to keep her feelings under check. Her skin was crawling to have his hands on her, but she didn’t remove him. “I don’t want that, Liam.”
He dug his fingers into the back of her shirt, so she placed her hands over his, and whispered, “And I know you don’t want it either.”
Liam wasn’t wallowing in fears of abandonment because the hateful mating bite was gone. Odell closed her eyes, and saw Derrick slumping into that carriage again, spirit broken.
Had it gotten physical between them? Romantic? How had she not noticed how serious it was getting?
That’s simple. You don’t know a thing about loving someone.
“Please,” Liam kept begging. He crawled up, fitting himself onto her lap, “I do want it. I promise, I want you. I’ll be good. I’ll submit. You’re the queen. I’m your consort. I’ll be whatever you want.”
Odell wanted to cry, but she made herself stay strong. She stood up, lifting him under the legs as she went, before settling him onto the bed.
His grip on her made it impossible to just lay him flat, so she kneeled on the bed with him, prying his hands as delicately from her neck as she could.
Liam laid out on the covers, knees apart, arm over his belly. Torn between seducing her and keeping his modesty.
And as shameful as it was that she couldn’t have given him this answer a few days ago, even thought it was too late to protect his innocence, Odell needed to grow a pair and draw the line in the sand.
“I’m never going to bed you, Liam,” she said, keeping herself stern, treating him as little as she possibly could. “What I want you to be is what you’ve always been.”
Liam shuddered, head to toe, and broke out into tears at last. Snotty and drippy and ugly as ever, he buried his face in the pillow and wailed.
Pushing her own feelings to her toes, she rubbed his upper back to try and soothe him.
Forget what she’d promised Avery. She’d made promises to Liam, too, that she needed to keep.
“I failed you. But it’s the last time that anyone’s going to touch a hair on your head, Liam.”
He kept on shuddering, so she pulled her hand away, tucking him in with the blanket instead.
“I may not be yours and you may not be mine,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. We’re going to be safe from now on.”
Liam tried to talk, but each breath came in with a wild hiccup. He was falling apart, worked up and spent, no better than he was in the throes of his heat.
“You’re getting all worked up over nothing. Rest, Liam.”
“We–” he hiccuped, body wracking like with a seizure, “we can’t keep this up for–” Another rough hiccup. “Forever.”
She smoothed back his hair and he shook.
Liam stared at her, nose scrunched, pulling himself together. “The empire wants me to be yours. For us to have pups. What are you going to do against that?”
Odell brushed her hand down towards the back of his neck, keeping her touch light. He shivered, and settled, a little, leaning into her touch.
“I’m going to protect the both of us. I’m going to protect this kingdom.” It wouldn’t do to promise that she’d be empress, or change the empire from within, not when it was so out of reach. She couldn’t promise it anymore than she could let him know about Avery, who could be on her way or a corpse.
Most importantly, “You don’t need to worry about any of this, Liam. If you want to be a good omega, just leave it all to me.”
He stiffened, drawing away from her hand, curling up onto his pillows again. He stared, dead at the wall, hand on his throat, his scent bitter.
All the same, he didn’t make any more attempts to touch her or offer himself like a piece of meat.
“The service bell is within reach,” Odell said, dragging herself off the soft trappings of the bed again. “Ring it if you need anything. Including if you need me.”
Liam curled his hands around his stomach, but nodded, nuzzling his pillow. His cheeks were flushed, his scent still distraught. Embarrassed, she was sure.
She could understand the sentiment. Though maybe she was more nauseous than embarrassed, as he laid there, sprawled on the bed, like he was still waiting for her to fuck him.
There was nothing she could do to take back what had happened, just now or in the greenhouse, but she could keep moving forward.
“Please, rest,” she said, one last time, squeezing his shoulder before quitting his bedside.
He watched her go, eyes still red-rimmed. But with his body so boneless against the bed, Odell couldn’t help thinking she’d passed some final little test.
Liam doesn’t want you to bed him or breed him. He’s just scared.
At last, the lines between them were clear, in black and white. And she hoped that her promise against sex might be a little bit of comfort, after everything else.
If she was in his shoes….
Odell, shivered, knowing that she never would be.
No wonder Papa hated you.
By now, she might hate herself even more.
~ ~ ~
Once the door was shut, Liam had half a mind to grab a pillow and throw it after her. But sprawled in bed as he was, he couldn’t find the energy to roll over and grab anything.
The humiliation of begging for a cock and being denied might have stung worse than refusing one and getting it anyway.
Liam flinched, biting at his hand. He flexed and unflexed his fingers, laying on top of the covers, wondering if he’d ever find the energy to get out of bed again.
Odell is never going to claim you.
That should be good, yes?
Liam hadn’t gotten out of bed, run into the night, and tried to steal a horse with Derrick for a lark. They’d attempted an elopement for a reason. Derrick had mentioned it, but Liam had latched on hard enough to make it reality.
He hugged himself, squeezing his legs together, memories of Derrick’s lap beneath him and Aiden’s hands on his thighs all bleeding into one.
At the end of the day, he’d been dragged into the greenhouse by a posse of conspirators because Odell hadn’t fucked him. And now, he was finally sure she never would.
If he’d been so certain of her intentions a few days ago, he never would have begged Derrick to elope. Now, he wished he’d succeeded.
Not that their escape would have been long-lived.
He and Derrick would have been caught, eventually. By Odell, by other agents of the empire, maybe grabbed by the hand of the empress herself. The empire was absolute, the empress inevitable.
Odell was never going to fuck him, and she was defying the empress, and so he and Odell were going to die.
Just like Father and Mother. Jacob and Avery. You defy the empire, and you die.
At least Derrick’s safe.
Liam put his fist in his mouth to hold back something like a scream as he flopped back on the bed. His shoulders shook, crying again, but he let it ride out, compromising with himself. Be a bitch all you want, just be quiet.
He cringed, and cried harder, thinking of the brave picture he’d made in the greenhouse, weeping and trembling.
No one was ever going to see him cry again.
Never again.
The sunlight from the window moved along the length of the bed, eventually just tickling his bare toes. He scrunched them in the bedding, watching his shadow. Thinking. Planning.
He was going to die. Goodness knew how much long he had left.
Everyone dies, but this wasn’t how he imagined it. He was supposed to be old. He was supposed to have a mate cuddled in bed with him. He was supposed to be surrounded by grandchildren.
If he was lucky, he’d die like the peasant Odell executed who threw a rock at him, with a horrified audience. Most likely, the empress would kill him in secret, like with his parents, or out of defiance, like Avery.
You could go out fighting, like Jac—
Liam rolled in the bed, curling into a ball. He couldn’t forget Jacob’s horrified face. His fighting spirit, snuffed out, just like he’d planned to snuff out Odell.
The empress might make it hurt. Odell wants to keep you safe, and she’s defying the empress to do it, so the empress will make you die badly and have Odell watch.
Odell owned him. The mating bite was dead but the marriage contract remained.
His rape had been about her, and so would his death.
He didn’t want to die for Odell.
Liam sat up, dizzy at the movement. He’d been in bed for hours.
The sun was high in the sky, moving towards noon.
How far was Derrick from the imperial border? Would they reach Castle Matthais before nightfall? Or else find someplace secure for the night? Kill some northern rebels and runaway slaves on the way?
If Liam was anything like a king, he’d die for his kingdom. Go out fighting like Avery, Jacob, even Mother and Father.
But he couldn’t die for the kingdom, because it was already the empire. It was already Odell’s.
His face was tacky, his tears dried down his cheeks and chin. Wobbly on his feet, he tiptoed across cool stone to find a basin of water. It was cold, but he splashed it messily along his face, letting it drip onto his nightshirt, leaving him shivering.
Liam clutched the sides of the dresser before looking into the small mirror. He was too short for it, only able to see to the tip of his nose. His eyes were bloodshot, baggy, dead.
Take the kingdom back.
Liam and Odell were both going to die. So, the best death he could get, to honor his family and his kingdom and have some satisfaction against the empire, would be to die as a king.
He cringed, legs jelly, and collapsed to the floor. His heat and the fucking he couldn’t remember–or half remember–or maybe invented–and the drugs and the flogging and kicking Derrick while he was down felt heavy enough to crush him into the stone, grind him to powder.
Liam had been so ready to lie back and let Odell claim him already.
He’d finally learned his lesson. He’d finally decided he’d be a good omega.
But Odell wouldn’t let him.
He flopped out onto his back like a snow angel, wondering if this was how Jacob or Avery had felt when they hit rock bottom, when they felt Odell’s knife in their stomach.
How would Odell look with a knife in her stomach?
Liam tried to flinch the thought away, like he’d been doing for months, every time he considered seeking revenge and then decided it wasn’t worthwhile.
If he was braver, he’d tried to stab the empress, like Avery.
But he was a coward, and he didn’t have half of his sister’s righteous fury to drive him on. He was petty. He just wanted his pride. A little control.
He couldn’t fight the empress, but Odell was right here.
You’ll die. If you fight back, you’ll die.
He’d now had what, three, four extra months? They hadn’t been all bad. He’d had Derrick. He’d even had Odell.
She doesn’t want you.
If Odell wouldn’t be his master, and wouldn’t let him obey her, then Liam would make his own grave, and rebel.
Take the kingdom back. Take the crown from the hands of the empire’s daughter, and die with your head high.