Page 127 of Run Little Omega

"I'm listening," I say, one hand absently soothing the restless movement beneath my skin.

"The Winter Court," he says simply.

The words hang in the air between us, simultaneously absurd and terrifying. I stare at him, waiting for the punchline.

"Please tell me you've developed a sense of humor overnight," I say flatly. When his expression remains serious, I throw up my hands. "The same Winter Court that's hunting us? The one you abandoned? The one that sent assassins to end my pregnancy? That Winter Court?"

"Yes." His voice is steady, measured. "Precisely because it's the last place they would expect us to go."

"Oh fantastic, we'll just waltz in and ask if they have a spare room for the heavily pregnant omega carrying what they consider abominations. Maybe they'll throw us a baby shower."

The Hound makes a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh. "I've advised against this plan, but the prince makes certain points I cannot refute."

"What points could possibly justify walking into the heart of enemy territory?" My voice rises despite my efforts to remain calm. The babies respond to my agitation with increased movement, pressing uncomfortably against my ribs.

Cadeyrn steps closer, close enough that I can smell him—that intoxicating blend of winter pine and something uniquely him that still makes my traitorous body respond. His ice-blue eyes hold mine with an intensity that momentarily steals my breath.

"The Winter Palace contains birthing chambers designed specifically for fae pregnancies. Technology and magic that exist nowhere else in either realm."

I frown, processing this information. "Why would the Winter Court need special birthing chambers? I thought fae pregnancies were rare."

"They are." His expression darkens. "But when they occur, they often end in ways that... contain significant magical discharge. The chambers were designed to harness that power rather than allow it to dissipate."

It takes me a moment to connect the dots. "Oh." The implication sits like ice in my stomach. Fae pregnancies often end in death—the omega's body unable to withstand the magical demands of carrying a child with fae blood. When that happens, the magic doesn't simply vanish. It escapes, raw and unfocused.

And the Winter Court, ever efficient, found a way to capture that power.

"Let me get this straight," I say, crossing my arms over my belly. "You're suggesting I give birth in a room designed to harvest magic from dying omegas. That's your brilliant plan?"

"I'm suggesting," he counters, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face with unexpected gentleness, "that you use a system designed to manage intense magical discharge to protect yourself and our children." His fingers linger against my cheek, sending a warmth through me that has nothing to do with Wild Magic. "No human or fae has ever successfully delivered quadruplets with Wild Magic in their blood. The magical demands alone could..."

He doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to. I've felt it already—the steady drain as the babies draw more and more power from me. Even with my own awakening Wild Magic, there's a limit to what my body can provide.

"The chambers would stabilize the magical flow," Cadeyrn continues, his hand dropping reluctantly from my face. "Channel it, prevent it from overwhelming you during birth."

I pace the small cave, my mind racing through a dozen different scenarios, each more disastrous than the last. The Winter Court. The actual Winter Court. It's either the most suicidal plan I've ever heard or, possibly, the most brilliant. Which is just like Cadeyrn—reckless and calculating all at once.

"Even if we somehow reached the Winter Palace undetected," I argue, "what's to prevent the court physicians from taking the babies immediately after birth? Or simply killing all of us once we're within their walls?"

The Hound steps forward, his expression grave. "That is the true risk. Court physicians will recognize the unprecedented magical potential these children represent. They will want to study them, control them, perhaps even separate them to prevent the unification of Wild Magic."

"Great, so we're walking into a trap where the best outcome is they only torture our children for power instead of murdering us all on sight. Fantastic plan." I run a hand through my tangled copper hair, frustration and fear making me sharp.

"I have contingencies in place," Cadeyrn says, moving to stand directly in front of me. Close enough that I have to tilt my head to meet his gaze, close enough that I can feel the cool radiation of his power. "Potential allies who might be persuaded to assist us."

Something in his nearness steadies me despite myself. I study his face, searching for doubt or deception. I find neither—only grim determination and something deeper, something that looks almost like hope. When did his eyes start affecting me like this again? When did I stop seeing only the Winter Prince who authorized atrocities and start seeing the man who offered his blood to poisoned ground without hesitation?

"Who?" I ask, my voice softening slightly. "Who could possibly side with us against their own court?"

"Lysandra Frost," he replies. "The Winter Court healer. She has questioned court practices for centuries, though never openly enough to face consequences. And she is particularly skilled with difficult births."

The name means nothing to me, but The Hound makes a sound of grudging approval. "The ice witch with blue-tinted skin? Yes, she might help. She has old blood, older than most realize."

I turn away, staring out at the mountain landscape beyond our cave. Dawn paints the distant peaks in shades of crimson and gold, beautiful and indifferent to our plight. The quadruplets move inside me, their collective presence a constant reminder of what's at stake.

"And if your ally betrays us?" I ask, voicing the fear that gnaws at me. "If we deliver ourselves directly into their hands?"

Cadeyrn's voice is quiet but firm. "Then I will tear down the Winter Palace stone by stone before I allow harm to come to you or our children."

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