Page 152 of Run Little Omega

As his knot gradually recedes, allowing our bodies to separate, Cadeyrn turns me in his arms. His eyes—still ice-blue but with pupils dilated from satisfied rut—search my face like he's memorizing each detail.

"You're magnificent," he says, tracing my pointed ear with one finger. The simple touch sends aftershocks cascading down my spine, my body still hypersensitive. "Half-wild."

I catch my distorted reflection in a nearby wall that's now more mirror than ice. I hardly recognize the woman looking back. Still me, but heightened, intensified—like someone took every aspect of me and sharpened it beyond what should be possible. My copper hair now liberally streaked with silver. My skin luminous with cillae that pulse with my breath. My eyes gleaming with tiny flecks of magic visible in their depths. My ears delicately pointed. My smile revealing fangs that would look natural in a predator's mouth.

Not a village blacksmith's apprentice anymore. Not quite fae. Something in between that has no name yet.

"Wild Magic has claimed me as thoroughly as you did," I murmur, legs still trembling as he helps me stand.

His mouth curves in satisfaction, but there's something deeper than mere possession in his gaze. "Not claimed. Awakened what was always there."

I gather the tatters of my court clothes around me, not from any real modesty but because the transformation has left me shaking with a bone-deep exhaustion that makes me suddenly crave warmth.

"The other courts will feel this," I say, sensing how far the magic has already spread from the throne room. It races through the palace walls like wildfire, changing everything it touches. "They'll know?—"

"Good." His face splits in a feral grin that reminds me of the predator who hunted me through the forest. "Let them come with their armies and their rules and their fear. Let them face what they've tried to destroy for centuries."

The arrogance should irritate me, but I can't deny the thrill of his conviction. The blacksmith's apprentice who spent her life hiding what she was now stands in the heart of the Winter Court, transformed by Wild Magic beyond recognition, with a changed prince ready to wage war for her sake.

He wraps an arm around my waist, steadying me as we descend from the dais, both of us staring at the throne that continues its metamorphosis even without our direct contact. Cadeyrn may be helping me walk, but there's nothing subordinate in the gesture—we're supporting each other after what we've unleashed.

My heat recedes like a tide pulling back from shore, leaving me drained but altered in its wake. My skin still runs several degrees hotter than before, as if my body has permanently reset to accommodate the wild fusion of magics now flowing through me.

"Soon," I murmur, hand instinctively finding my belly where the little ones rest quiet after the magical storm we just created. "Soon they will come into this world."

In less than two days according to Lysandra's latest assessment. Four lives that shouldn't exist, carried by a woman transformed beyond what court doctrine thought possible, protected by a prince who abandoned perfect control for messy, complicated devotion.

Cadeyrn's expression shifts from satisfied lover to strategic ruler in the space between heartbeats. "The birth chambers will be ready. Our allies will hold until then."

Reality crashes back with his words—a cold shock after our magical joining. Three courts gathering armies at our borders. Our forces outnumbered. The birthing of the babes marking both our greatest vulnerability and our greatest potential.

"And if they attack before then?" The question I've been swallowing for weeks finally emerges. "If they won't accept what we're becoming?"

Cadeyrn sweeps his arm to encompass the transformed throne room—the living magic still spreading visibly through walls and floor and ceiling. "They'll face this. Wild Magic doesn't need permission to exist."

His certainty should reassure me, but I'm too practical for blind faith, even in power this raw. "The children will still be vulnerable. I'll be vulnerable during the birthing."

"Which is why we prepare for attack," he admits, gathering his scattered clothes with more composure than I can manage.

I turn back to the throne, drawn to how it continues shifting, veins of Wild Magic flowing through ancient ice like blood through a newly awakened body. The way it responded to my heat, my magic, my very presence—it wasn't just accepting me. It was recognizing something.

"The throne," I say, sudden understanding clicking into place. "It knew me. It responded to the babes I carry."

Cadeyrn follows my gaze, cillae shifting thoughtfully across his skin. "Yes. More than it should have. More than a mere symbol of court power would."

"Because it's not just a symbol." My fingers trace the still-thrumming patterns in the air. "It's older than the court divisions, isn't it? From when Wild Magic flowed freely."

His expression changes, a flash of ancient knowledge passing across features now transformed by rut and Wild Magic. "The archives mention something—a protection spell embedded within the throne itself. A failsafe to shield the royal family during times of crisis."

My heart quickens, the little ones responding with synchronized movement. "Would it protect four lives carrying Wild Magic while three courts gather at our borders?"

"I'm certain it would." Cadeyrn's touch traces the transformed patterns flowing through the throne's ice. "The birth chambers are the obvious choice—the public plan everyone expects. But this..."

"A contingency," I finish, tactical mind calculating possibilities like measuring metal for the forge. "If the birth chambers are compromised, if we need a fallback..."

"We use the throne itself," he confirms, voice dropping lower. "It contains ancient protective magic designed to shield royal blood, no matter the cost."

The idea settles into my bones with surprising rightness. The throne that has known only Winter Court rulers for centuries, now transformed by our claiming into something balanced and whole—the perfect vessel for children carrying magic from all four courts.

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