Page 137 of Run Little Omega

"Tonight, then," Cadeyrn agrees. "I'll attend this council session to keep Elder Iris and Lord Frostbaine occupied while preparations are made." He turns to me, cillae brightening as our eyes meet. "Stay with Lady Lysandra. Do not leave these quarters for any reason until I return."

I bristle slightly at being ordered about, then recognize the fear beneath his commanding tone. He's not controlling me; he's protecting what we've created together.

"I'll be here," I promise. "Try not to freeze anyone important."

A small smile touches his lips. "No promises."

Before I realize what's happening, he pulls me against him—careful of my protruding belly—and his mouth finds mine in a kiss that's nothing like the quick one before we faced the council chamber. This one is hungry, desperate, filled with everything we haven't said. His tongue brushes mine, and I respond with embarrassing eagerness, my body remembering every claiming in the forest, every moment of connection we've shared.

When we break apart, I'm breathless, and his eyes have darkened to midnight blue. "When this is over," he murmurs against my ear, "we need to talk about what's happening between us."

"Talk?" I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathy. "Is that what you call it?"

He laughs, a sound I'm still getting used to hearing from him. "Among other things." His hand travels down my side in a caress that promises considerably more than conversation. "When you're ready—if you're ever ready—I'll be waiting."

With one last lingering kiss that makes my knees actually wobble (ridiculous omega biology), he's gone, following the guard back toward the upper palace.

I press my fingers to my tingling lips, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions his touch evokes. Desire, confusion, lingering anger, and something else I'm not ready to name.

The omega leader watches him leave, then turns back to me with a knowing smile. "He has changed greatly," she observes. "The Winter Prince who returned is not the one who left for the Hunt."

"No kidding," I reply, still feeling the ghost of his lips on mine. "He used to be all icy control and court protocol. Now he's..." I trail off, remembering the heat in his eyes, the possessive touch of his hands. "Well, definitely not that anymore."

She tilts her head, studying me with unexpected perception. "And you? Have your feelings toward him changed as well?"

I consider denying it, deflecting with humor as I usually do. Instead, I find myself answering honestly. "It's complicated. He's responsible for terrible things, things that affected me personally. But he's also..." I rest my hands on my belly, feeling the little ones shift beneath my palms. "He's trying to make amends. And sometimes, when he looks at me like he just did, I can almost imagine a future where we're more than just two people thrown together by circumstance and biology."

"The Wild Magic changes more than just abilities," she says gently. "It transforms hearts as well."

"Maybe," I say, watching cillae spiral across my hands, matching the rhythm of four tiny heartbeats beneath my own. "Neither of us is what we were. I'm just not sure what we're becoming."

The rebellion grows within me, within the palace, within border villages across four territories. Wild Magic awakens from centuries of slumber, recognizing itself across distances and boundaries. And somewhere in the heart of the Winter Court, ancient birth chambers await four impossible lives that will either transform two worlds or tear them apart entirely.

Tonight, we find out which.

CHAPTER48

POV: Briar

I've spentmost of my life avoiding detection. Hiding my omega status from village census takers, masking my scent with herbal concoctions, wearing bindings tight enough to make breathing an optional activity. But I've never seen anything like the invisible pathways that honeycomb the Winter Palace.

"These passages were designed centuries ago," Lysandra explains as she guides me through a narrow corridor hidden behind what had appeared to be a solid ice wall. "A way for omega servants to move throughout the palace without disturbing the sensibilities of noble alphas."

"You mean so they wouldn't have to acknowledge that actual people were cleaning up after them," I translate, trailing my fingers along the wall. Unlike the polished perfection of the main corridors, these passages bear the marks of countless hands—smooth depressions worn into the ice by generations of omegas passing through.

Lysandra's lips quirk in that almost-smile I'm coming to recognize as her version of outright laughter. "Indeed. The irony being that these 'invisible' pathways actually provide access to nearly every chamber in the palace, including many the nobles believe to be completely secure."

The little ones shift restlessly as we walk, one of them jamming what feels like an elbow directly into my bladder. I wince, pressing a hand against the spot.

"Are you alright?" Lysandra asks, cillae brightening with concern.

"Just internal acrobatics," I assure her, adjusting my increasingly uncomfortable stance. "I swear they're having a competition in there to see who can hit the most vital organs."

We've been exploring the hidden network for several hours, ever since Cadeyrn left for his meeting with the council. Instead of waiting passively in our quarters as instructed (like I've ever been good at following instructions), I convinced Lysandra to show me the omega passages that might prove crucial to our plans.

Eventually, we find ourselves in what appears to be a vast library. Unlike the stark perfection of the public rooms, this chamber feels ancient, almost organic. Bookshelves carved directly from ice rise to the vaulted ceiling, while tables formed from a strange blue-white material that's neither ice nor stone dot the open floor.

"The Ancient Archives," Lysandra explains, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "Most of the court has forgotten its existence. Those who remember believe the knowledge here to be obsolete, superseded by modern court understanding."

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