Page 4 of The Omega Thief

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind.” He hurriedly caught up with the captain, who was striding away down the long corridor. “I don’t need to bother anyone with this. Can’t I just pay a fine and go?”

The captain eyed him. “But you protested your innocence. The witnesses backed you up. You would’ve been released by now if you hadn’t requested the royal hearing.”

Attiker opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “But I changed my mind.” Then he winced at how pathetic and whiny he sounded.

The captain shrugged. “Nevertheless, the prince has set aside time in his extremely busy schedule to see you—”

“The prince?” Attiker interrupted with a squeak. “What do you mean the prince?”

The man stopped so suddenly, this time Attiker nearly ran right into him. “A royal hearing? Who did you think was going to hear you?”

Attiker hadn’t thought. He’d been more outraged at the time because of the disaster his day was becoming, and the words spilling from his mouth were ill-thought-out. “But I didn’t think it would actually happen.” Attiker shuffled a tad guiltily. “I mean, isn’t he busy today?”

Attiker knew there’d been no bonding announced yet because the flags outside the palace hadn’t been altered. The gold and purple of Cadmeera still fluttered in the breeze. When the bonding was done, the flags would be taken down and a new one raised alongside the colors of whatever house the new bond mate belonged to.

The flag-raising was the true start to the festival, and Raz’s father had told him when the old king was bonded it had lasted over a week. Of course they’d been celebrating the end of another war at the same time, so he supposed everyone deserved a few days off.

The captain stopped again suddenly by a large double door, and Attiker had been so busy fretting over his hearing and trying to get out of it he hadn’t realized they’d left the cells far behind and were now in the palace proper. The grand hallway they were standing in should have warned him, and what were almost certainly priceless paintings should’ve given him a second clue.

The captain knocked on the door, and two guards opened it. Both eyed Attiker with suspicion even after he was searched for the third time since he’d been arrested. The bastards had probably eaten the half loaf they’d confiscated, and he was starving. It didn’t make it easier because whatever they’d been eating up here smelled bloody amazing, Attiker thought ruefully. Even the captain had a faint scent of it, but the closer he’d gotten to the prince’s rooms, the stronger it had got.

Although now he was closer he wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was food he was smelling. More a mixture of spice and herbs. The sort any baker would give their left nut to be able to mix into their food. It would have customers lining up in droves. He inhaled again as the guard nodded after checking a third time that he wasn’t hiding any knives or such.

“Sure smells good around here.” Attiker made the comment more to settle his nerves than expecting a reply.

One of the guards scoffed. “That’s because you’re not used to the smell of clean living.”

Attiker let the scorn roll off him because that wasn’t it. His main source of income was as aseekerfor the three healers in the city. They’d tell him what raw ingredient they wanted, be it a herb that only grew halfway up the cliffside leading to a monastery, or something that really didn’t have any business being in a pigsty, to a spice that was imported only once a year on the Dancing Girl. It was a good arrangement. The Dancing Girl brought in some of the things the healers needed. The healers would see to the health of the sailors in exchange, and Attiker brokered the deal and got what the healers were missing to do their jobs. It was a good arrangement, and he needed it after the visit from Gilbertson. He’d thought he was going to kill him then, but a dead thief couldn’t get cash, so Gilbertson let him go.

And nowadays, he really only tried to lift purses when he was desperate or needed the practice.

The point was that all the healers who used him were absolutely manic about their space being clean. He knew what clean smelled like, and yes, the palace smelled clean, of course it did. The cells had been nicer than some of the hovels he’d stayed in as a child, but this? This smell was different. Intoxicating almost.

“His Highness will just want an account of what happened in the market.” The captain sighed. “Look, the prince is a good man. He’s going to be a great king. He’s just had a bad three days so far and doesn’t need this on top of everything else. He’ll be fair. Just…” He paused. “Don’t give him problems, okay?”

Attiker nodded, surprised at how possessive the man sounded, paternal almost. He’d seen pictures of the prince. Never been close-up, but he wasn’t a child. In fact, he was pretty sure he was twenty-four, and that made him two years younger than Attiker. Even if their experiences made that gap yawn considerably wider.

He huffed out a laugh at that thought. He’d bet Prince Raz’mar hadn’t spent nights awake and terrified, waiting to see if his ma made it home from working the docks, and then had to go to sleep with the sickly smell of fever white on his clothes. And then, as he’d gotten older, how nearly all his money as well went to feed his ma’s habit. Food and shelter had always been a secondary consideration.

He swallowed and concentrated on the captain’s face. He was clearly waiting for an answer, and Attiker nodded his acknowledgment, took a deep breath to settle his nerves, and inhaled more of the delicious aroma, feeling his insides stir. Damn. What was that?

The guards drew his attention as one knocked on the next door, and he heard the command to enter. This was it. Five minutes groveling, ten at the most, and he was out of here. He followed the captain when he beckoned and walked into one of the biggest rooms he’d ever been in in his life. They would be able to fit the entire Two-Headed Salamander in here twice over.

“Your Highness.” The captain bowed and elbowed Attiker to do the same, but Attiker stood frozen, looking at the man who’d just raised his head to pin Attiker with an astonished gaze. Attiker shivered as if something he’d never felt before slid over his skin, and all the moisture seemed to leave his mouth as the prince stood.

Attiker licked his dry lips and feasted his eyes on the prince as the prince seemed to do the same to him. Golden eyes bored into him. Jet-black hair fell in soft layers that Attiker suddenly wanted to run his fingers through. He had the deep, dark brown skin tone of the Fenrirs and the height that Attiker had always longed for. When he moved slightly, the muscles rippled in his legs and made his royal uniform look like a second skin.

It took another dig in the ribs before Attiker realized he hadn’t bowed, and he had to wrench his gaze away to do so.

“Your Highness, Attiker Lynch.”

Attiker raised his head and met the same golden eyes again. He knew the prince’s eyes were an indication of his shifter species. Only Fenrirs’ eyes were golden. He’d remembered being pleased when he hadn’t shifted at thirteen. It wasn’t that common amongst the lower classes, but if it happened, it was a guarantee he would have to serve at least ten years in the army, and he liked his life just as it was, thank you very much.

Or he would if he could get out of here and get to the damn ship before it sailed.

Belatedly, Attiker realized he still hadn’t spoken, but neither had the prince, and surely Attiker had to keep quiet until asked a direct question. He risked another look at the prince, who was still studying him with intense focus.

“Sire?” the captain prompted into the silence, and the prince glanced his way.

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