Page 52 of The Omega Thief

Chapter twenty-two

Razlookedathisgrandmother. Thanks to her wolf, she looked a good twenty years younger than her actual age, even though she’d never attempted to dye her white hair back to brown, or fuss with creams and potions that a lot of people did to try to make themselves look younger. She’d been his biggest supporter even though she’d lost her son and daughter-in-law. She’d been the strength that Raz had needed after their death. She’d always been in his corner from being a little boy when he didn’t know how to navigate the wolf inside of him, or in the last few months when he didn’t know how to navigate his new role. He’d loved his parents, and they him, but his father was the king, and that had to come first, and his mother was his omega.

He would never, ever knowingly hurt her, and the knowledge that he was about to do just that pained him on a deep level. It was also the first time he’d ever requested her presence in his office, like some recalcitrant child or a minion. But he needed her alone, and in this, he needed to be the crown prince more than a beloved grandson.

She swept into the room, her eyes twinkling, a smile flirting on those soft lips, but as soon as she’d seen they were alone and then noticed his face, her smile had vanished. “Raz’mar?” She stood quietly, and he wanted to pace. He didn’t by virtue of his fingers becoming claws and digging into the two-thousand-year-old desk he leaned against to anchor him.

“I need to ask you some questions.” The words were apologetic, and Grandmother’s eyes narrowed as she tilted her head.

“What is it you think I’ve done?”

Raz huffed. She’d always been able to read a room, and he wasn’t surprised she could sense his discomfort. “Nana,” he whispered his old childhood nickname for her and took another breath. “I would never disrespect you by prying into your personal affairs, but I need to know what you may have told Viscount Harcourt.”

Grandmother stiffened. “I hardly think—”

“He was seen at the Market of Lost Souls on more than one occasion involved in selling slaves and using fever white to ensure their compliance.”

Grandmother seemed to almost stagger in shock, but she found the chair before Raz had a chance to steady her.

“I’m sorry,” he said wretchedly as she hid her face in her hands.

It took a minute, but he saw Grandmother take a few deep breaths. Then she raised her head and settled her hands together neatly in her lap. “You believe Viscount Harcourt deliberately sought out my company to learn what secrets he could?”

Damn, but she was clever. Raz sat down next to her and drew her hands to his. “I think trust is very tempting, and I think a relief from loneliness is an even greater temptress.” He hesitated. “I thought you were happy with the Duke of Shemar.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Alistair and I have been happy for many years. He always demurred to my wishes, to my comfort. I imagine our relationship became too comfortable.” She drew a shaky hand to her lips. “I think I’ve been very foolish. I let myself be swayed by excitement and thought it would make me young.”

Raz brought the hand he was still holding to his lips and kissed it gently. “Maybe Harcourt just recognized a treasure for what it was and wanted to keep it for himself?”

Grandmother shook her head. “Am I responsible for the death of the apprentices?”

“No,” Raz said forcefully. “You didn’t strike the killing blow. Let us place the blame exactly where it should lie.”

Grandmother nodded, but then she gasped. “Raz’mar.”

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “I knew of the challenge, the first trial. Your father asked me confidentially if it was too harsh at the time he wrote it. Harcourt questioned me about it, and I never thought…” She looked at him, eyes swimming in guilt and regret. “If Harcourt told Markell, he may have had time to plan.”

Raz sighed. Because, yes, he very much thought that had happened.

Razeyedthepeoplehe’d summoned after Thakeray reported that Harcourt was nowhere to be found and said it looked like he’d fled the palace. These were all Attiker’s friends. The ones that may be able to help him when he could not. He’d summoned the Duke of Shemar and left him and Grandmother to talk. He could do no more in that direction.

Bartholemew Dennigal from the Two-headed Salamander, his daughter Jenny, the scars still healing on her face, Gosforth Nightingale, the ex-ship’s first mate, Karter, his guard and the son of Annie from the tannery, Seamus Eldrington from the bookstore, and oddly enough, Isaac Shaw, the jeweler.

They had all come.

“I need your help,” Raz said and sat and told them the whole sorry tale. How the apprentices’ death—both of them—had likely been either carried out by Gilbertson or engineered by him, the kidnap of Attiker, and the fire, all with the ultimate goal of taking Cadmeera from him and turning it into Abergenny. He told them about his suspicions over his parents’ death and that Attiker was likely heading into a trap. He told them about the challenge and how he was at a loss to know how Attiker was going to win. He also shared his worry about Harcourt and that Sovereign Markell had a plan.

They were all silent for a few moments, and Raz sighed. “I know you have no love for me.” He gazed at Bartholomew. “And I don’t blame you. I just hope you might have an idea of how to help Attiker.”

“You love him,” Jenny said bluntly, which made everyone look at him.

“Yes,” Raz replied simply. “But my hands are tied. Anyone in the crown’s employ cannot help, which is why he took Ash with him.”

“Have you spoken to Gerry?” Isaac asked.

“Gerry?” Raz repeated. Who was Gerry?

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