CHAPTER FOUR

Elian's "guest quarters" were more luxurious than anything he'd ever experienced, but he wasn't fooled. The beautiful furnishings and silken bedding couldn't disguise the fact that he was still a prisoner. The two guards stationed outside his door made that perfectly clear, as did the windows that opened only partway not enough for a person to slip through.

A gilded cage was still a cage.

He splashed water on his face from the porcelain basin, studying his reflection in the mirror. Five days of travel had left dark circles under his silver eyes. His normally smooth black hair was tangled and dull. At least they'd allowed him to bathe and provided clean clothing simple black trousers and a blue tunic that was finer than anything he'd owned in Meadowvale.

A knock at the door startled him.

"Enter," he called, bracing himself for whatever new demand the king might have.

Instead, a young woman slipped into the room. Beta, by her scent. She carried a tray of food and a bundle of fabric.

"Good morning, sir," she said, keeping her eyes downcast. "I'm Lena. I've been assigned as your attendant during your stay."

"I don't need an attendant," Elian replied, though his stomach growled at the smell of fresh bread and fruit on the tray.

Lena smiled slightly. "Perhaps not, but His Majesty insists." She set down the tray and unfolded the bundle, revealing several more sets of clothing. "These should fit you. And I'm to tell you that Commander Thorne will escort you to the Royal Library in one hour."

Elian picked up an apple from the tray. "Can you tell me something, Lena?"

She looked up, curious. "If I can, sir."

"My friends from Meadowvale have you heard anything about them? Are they being treated well?"

Her eyes darted to the door as if checking for eavesdroppers. "The villagers are being held at Central Hold," she whispered. "Conditions are basic but not cruel. They're awaiting judgment, but no trials have been scheduled yet."

Relief washed through him. At least the king had kept that part of his bargain.

"Thank you," Elian said sincerely. "And please, don't call me 'sir.' My name is Elian."

Lena's smile grew more genuine. "Very well, Elian. Is there anything else you need?"

He hesitated, then decided to risk it. "Information. About the king."

Her expression turned guarded. "What sort of information?"

"His habits. His temperament. Anything that might help me... navigate my situation."

Lena arranged the clothes in a nearby wardrobe, buying herself time to consider his request. "His Majesty is... complicated," she finally said. "He can be harsh, even brutal, to his enemies. But he's fair to those who serve him well."

"And the curse? Do people know about it?"

Her hands stilled. "Only rumors. It's forbidden to speak of it directly." She glanced at him with new interest. "Is that why you're here? Because of the old stories?"

Before Elian could answer, the door opened again. Commander Thorne stood in the doorway, his gaze moving between Elian and Lena with suspicion.

"That will be all, Lena," he said sharply.

The girl bowed hastily and hurried out, avoiding Elian's eyes as she passed.

"Making friends already?" Thorne asked dryly.

Elian shrugged, taking a bite of the apple. "Just getting to know my jailers."

"Don't mistake courtesy for freedom, Omega." Thorne entered the room, closing the door behind him. "The king may have granted you certain privileges, but my men watch your every move."

"Good morning to you too, Commander," Elian replied with feigned cheerfulness. "I believe we're not due to meet for another hour."

Thorne's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Plans change. The king wants you in the library now."

Elian set down the half-eaten apple. "Lead the way."

As they walked through the labyrinthine palace corridors, Elian memorized every turn, every alcove, every possible exit. Escape might be impossible now, but opportunities could arise.

The palace was alive with activity servants rushing to complete morning tasks, courtiers already gathering in small clusters to trade gossip, guards at rigid attention at every intersection. Many paused to stare at Elian as he passed, undoubtedly catching his omega scent. Male omegas were rare enough to draw attention in a village; in the alpha-dominated royal court, he was practically a mythical creature.

"Ignore them," Thorne advised quietly. "Court vultures feed on weakness."

"Speaking from experience?" Elian asked.

Something like pain flashed across Thorne's face. "Perhaps."

Before Elian could probe further, they arrived at a massive set of doors carved with intricate tree designs. Two librarians betas by their scent bowed deeply as Thorne approached.

"His Majesty awaits inside," one said, pushing open the heavy doors.

The library took Elian's breath away. Three stories of books rose around a circular chamber, with spiraling staircases connecting each level. Sunlight streamed through a domed glass ceiling, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings filled his nostrils.

In the center of the room, at a large table covered with ancient-looking tomes, sat King Darius. He looked different today less formal, dressed in a simple black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. The black veins of the curse were clearly visible against his skin.

"Ah, there you are," Darius said, looking up from the book before him. "Commander, leave us."

Thorne bowed stiffly. "Your Majesty, protocol requires..."

"I'm aware of protocol," Darius cut him off. "I'll make an exception. Go."

Once Thorne had departed, closing the doors behind him, Darius gestured to the chair opposite his. "Sit. We have work to do."

Elian approached cautiously, scanning the titles of the books spread across the table. Many were in ancient languages he recognized from his grandmother's teachings texts about bloodline magic, omega healing arts, and one particularly ancient volume entitled "Curses and Their Undoing."

"You've been busy," Elian observed, taking the offered seat.

"When your life depends on something, you tend to be thorough." Darius pushed a book toward him. "This mentions your ancestor, Lyra Kaine. It details her confrontation with my great-great-grandfather."

Elian opened the book carefully, its pages brittle with age. The illuminated text showed a silver-eyed woman with her hands raised, power emanating from her fingertips while a crowned man cowered before her.

"History written by the victims," Darius said with a hint of bitterness. "My family's records tell a different story."

"I'm sure they do," Elian murmured, scanning the text. "According to this, she cursed him because he slaughtered her family when she refused his claim."

"He offered her power as his queen," Darius countered. "She chose defiance."

Elian looked up, meeting the king's intense gaze. "Is that what you call it when someone refuses to be owned?"

He expected anger, but Darius merely looked thoughtful. "Perhaps our ancestors were both wrong. The question is, can you undo what she did?"

Elian continued reading, focusing on the description of the curse itself. The language was flowery and symbolic, as magic texts often were, but certain phrases caught his attention.

"Blood calls to blood," he read aloud. "The life that was taken will be repaid sevenfold. Seven generations shall know the touch of death before their time, their hearts consumed by shadow, until one king's heart beats in true accord with the descendant of she who was wronged."

He frowned, reading it again. "This doesn't sound like a simple counterspell situation."

"I'm aware," Darius replied dryly. "I've had scholars interpreting this text for years. None agree on its exact meaning."

"It sounds like..." Elian hesitated, the implication dawning on him. "Like the curse can only be broken through some kind of... reconciliation between our bloodlines."

"Precisely why you're here," Darius said, leaning forward. "Your blood, your magic, combined with my willing participation, might satisfy the curse's conditions."

Elian's mind raced through possibilities. Magical theory had been part of his grandmother's teachings curses required balance, reciprocity. To break one often required an equal exchange.

"It won't be easy," he warned. "And it won't be quick. Blood magic like this is complex, dangerous."

"I don't have the luxury of time," Darius reminded him, gesturing to the black veins on his arm. "The next full moon is in twelve days. Each time, the curse advances further."

The king suddenly winced, his hand moving to his chest as if in pain. For a brief moment, his carefully maintained facade cracked, revealing the suffering beneath. Despite himself, Elian felt a flicker of compassion.

"I'll help you," he said quietly. "Not for your sake, but for my friends. And because no one deserves to die like this, not even a ruthless king."

Darius looked up, surprise and something like respect in his eyes. "Then we understand each other." He pushed several more books toward Elian. "Start with these. I've marked relevant passages. We'll meet again at sunset to discuss your findings."

As Elian began to read, he had a feeling that there was something more to this curse .