Page 6 of The Omega Thief

Raz chuckled. Pinkerton’s excitement was infectious. “I have no idea.” Raz quickly explained but asked for it to be kept quiet for now. He knew the news the prince had bonded with someone arrested for theft would be impossible to keep secret, but he needed to know more about his bonded first.

Thakeray was summoned, who looked as pleased as Pinkerton. He was immediately discharged with going to Attiker’s lodgings so his things could be brought over to make him more comfortable when he woke.

Raz glanced at the large clock on the wall. Over an hour had gone already, but he was confident Attiker would be asleep for at least another two. Fenrirs’ blood was very powerful. His gaze narrowed as he remembered what he’d seen. Attiker’s wolf was white. Very unusual. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a white wolf before, but then the whole bonding had been very unusual.

“Your Highness?”

Raz sighed as Pinkerton carried in a huge sheaf of documents—mainly proclamations—and put them on his desk. Orders for the holiday to be extended and for the coronation to be scheduled.

A knock at the door sometime later heralded Thakeray with a slightly worried look about him. “Your Highness?”

Raz looked up after signing the last document as Thakeray closed the door behind him. He’d finished and had arranged for an early supper to be delivered to his suite in twenty minutes as they’d both missed lunch. He was looking forward to waking his bonded in a pleasant and relaxing way. They could eat and then get to know one another. He knew Attiker would have a hundred score of questions. “The Bluebell Inn has rooms they let for temporary lodging only. None of the people we saw knew His Highness, and none offered an alternative address to look.”

Raz approved of Thakeray already addressing Attiker as His Highness. His official title when Raz became King would be prince consort. He wouldn’t be surprised if Attiker had given a false address after being arrested. “We can ask him when he wakes. Was there anything else?”

Thakeray looked uncomfortable. “My apologies, sire, but yes, there is. We have a complaint and a request for retribution.”

Raz blinked. Retribution? That was an old-fashioned rule more popular in his grandfather’s time and had fallen out of favor because it was open to opportunism. Basically, if a crime had been committed and someone was arrested, other people could file complaints if the accused had done something to them. It was usually minor disagreements not worthy of a full prosecution.

“Who?” he asked baldly.

“A Jeremiah Grape, sire. He claims to be a healer from D’Aragn and has a complaint about theft.”

If Raz hadn’t been feeling irritated at the interruption and a little overwhelmed in general, he would’ve worked out instantly why something that would normally be attended to by the guards and then the magistrate should have been brought to him. He threw his pen down and eyed the captain. “And it’s something I have to deal with, why?”

The captain took a breath, and Raz knew the answer before Thakeray spoke.

“The complaint is against the prince consort.”

Of course it was. Raz took a breath and congratulated himself on his wolf not shifting and ripping out Thakeray’s jugular. Any threat to his bonded, his wolf took very seriously, and while the animals tended to see things in black and white, he knew his wolf could sense his unease.

“Show him in.” There was absolutely no way he could know who Attiker was, but the arrest had been very public. It could easily be someone wanting to settle an old score and take advantage. Thakeray opened the anteroom door and ushered in a very angular man.

Raz regarded him for a moment. The man was tall and seemed to be all knees and elbows. He’d clearly thought he needed to smarten himself up for the palace, not that Raz cared, but his jacket was too short and only succeeded in making the man look even more out of proportion.

“Your Highness.” Jeremiah Grape bowed very low, nearly banging his head on the desk. “It wasn’t my intention to bother Your Highness with something so trivial this weekend.”

Raz waited while the man straightened. “I give as many people from the palace the time off to spend with their families as possible before the festivities start properly. I can’t spare you but a moment, however.” There, that made it sound like the bonding hadn’t actually happened.

Jeremiah looked nonplussed at this, and Raz noted he’d started sweating. “Perhaps you could explain your complaint?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

There was a pause.

“Now?” Raz prompted with a hint of a growl in his voice.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Jeremiah repeated again, and Raz felt the impatient stir of his wolf. “I’m a healer assistant in D’Aragn, and I was tasked with finding a Lapiz bloom to cure a most vexing problem for the vizir.” He paused, and Raz wanted to laugh. The mayor of D’Aragn, or vizir, an outdated title belonging to an older balding man called Stephan Dunwoody. D’Aragn was a sleepy farming community towards their northern borders. He’d recently married the youngest son of one of the Shamars of the eastern plains, hoping to strengthen trade between the two areas. The son was a shifter. Not only was the vizir not a shifter, but he was twenty years older than his new husband. Lapiz blooms were used to cure baldness amongst a host of other ailments.

Not that Raz considered age to be any sort of hurdle, but Stephan Dunwoody was stuffy, persnickety, and obsessed with appearances. He’d already rejected one suitor after a match had already been arranged, who, on meeting, he considered to be too plain, and Raz knew the insult had hurt the family tremendously. Raz was glad he was starting to know how it felt.

“Exactly where was the Lapiz bloom growing?” Raz enquired.

“I’d already collected it, Your Highness, and was returning to the city.”

“Collected it from where?” Raz pressed.

Jeremiah flushed. “The Lapiz is only found in the caves of the Patir Hills.” Raz knew that. He also knew the Patir Hills, while accessible, weren’t easy to scale. All the cave openings were tiny crevasses cut out of sheer rock. And even then, the real difficulty was getting in them. The entrances were only the start of the difficulty and usually led to tunnels, some too small for even a child. There was no way Jeremiah could have gotten in there. He would’ve had to have either help or paid someone.

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