Page 52 of Bonds of Pain
The silence grates against my already frayed nerves. My father’s warnings about war, his cryptic comments about an unconventional approach to the Omega shortage, the looming responsibility of becoming heir. All of it swirls in my mind, demanding attention. And here they are, laughing together while I shoulder the burdens alone.
“I met with the king today,” I announce, cutting through the awkward silence with deliberate bluntness. “I’m to be named heir to the throne at the next council meeting.”
The words land with the impact I intended. Ares straightens further, immediately alert. Poe’s expression shifts to careful neutrality. Cillian’s eyes widen slightly before his features compose themselves.
Only Maya’s reaction is unexpected—a flash of calculation crosses her face before she masks it with an appropriate look of surprise and a detached smile.
“That is significant news,” Cillian finally says, his voice carefully measured.
“Congratulations,” Ares, holding up his glass. Poe quickly echoes the sentiment.
“Indeed,” I reply, moving further into the room. “It seems my father has decided I’m the most suitable choice to lead Melilla through its coming challenges.”
“Sounds like we should celebrate,” Poe offers, though his tone is more questioning than enthusiastic.
I lock eyes with Maya, who still hasn’t spoken. “The ceremony will be followed by a grand tourney. As my Omega, you’ll be expected to play a central role in the festivities.”
She nods, her expression unreadable. “Of course. Whatever is required of me.”
Her compliance should please me, but instead, it rings hollow. The distance between us feels even wider than the physical space separating us across the room.
“Well,” Ares says, raising his glass. “To the future king.”
The others lift their glasses in a toast, and I don’t miss the way that Maya drains her glass to the dregs. I force a smile, but the earlier resentment lingers. Whatever looseness they shared before I arrived has vanished, replaced by the familiar tension that seems to define us now.
As I take my place at the head of the table, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve truly won anything at all.
Maya leans closer and murmurs something too low for me to hear.
Instinctively, I loop a foot around the leg of her chair and yank it closer with a loud screech of wood on the marble floor. “What was that?”
Maya stiffens, eyes flashing with anger despite the expression of practiced indifference on her face. You wouldthink she’d be more excited about the news that her head is destined for a crown.
I can sense the distant feelings of resolve and resignation through the bond. A crown—and the security that comes with it—has to be the ultimate reason why she showed up back here at all. Social-climbing bitch that she is.
“I was just saying that this new role must come with increased responsibility.” She cuts her eyes at Cillian for the briefest moment before looking away. “And increased attention. The eyes of the entire realm will be on you now.”
I stroke my knuckle down her cheek, smiling when she stiffens. “I think you mean us. It’s what you’ve been so well-trained for, after all.”
“Speaking ofus…”Her voice is honey-sweet, but her expression remains watchful. “We’ve barely had time to adjust to our arrangement as it is. This is going to be a lot of added pressure.”
“Does that mean you’re not happy at the news? I thought every little girl dreamed of someday becoming a queen.”
“No one dreams of becoming a public spectacle,” she replies primly. Her gaze cuts to Cillian, a haughty eyebrow raised. “I’m sure the palace scheduler has already added a litany of social events to the calendar that I’ll be expected to attend.”
Cillian dutifully makes a few taps on his tablet. “You’re not wrong. There is a planning committee for the bonding ceremony that you’re expected to lead. The first meeting is tomorrow morning. Early.”
I shrug off her knowing look. “This is a good thing. With great power comes great responsibility, or some such nonsense.”
She scoffs. “Says the man who has never had to hold a conversation about something they don’t care about while wearing a corset.”
“Sounds kinky,” Ares comments with a laugh. “Count me in.”
“Logan, you also have a few added items on the agenda,” Cillian points out with a restrained cough. “Including overseeing the midnight changing of the guard. Tonight.”
“Tonight?” I repeat.
“Tonight,” Cillian confirms as he angles the tablet where I can see it. “A ranked general or higher must oversee all guard changes as part of the new security protocols. As crowned prince, you’ve been added to the rotation.”
