Nalia's POV
The rain stopped sometime before dawn, leaving the world washed clean and dripping.
I sat on the feed barrel until the first pale light crept through the barn slats, turning the wet hay into strands of silver. My clothes were still damp, my skin cold, but inside I was burning. Four princes. Four different futures had walked into my life in less than three days, and every one of them had looked at me like I was the answer to a question they had carried for years.
I pressed my palms to my eyes until sparks danced.
Run, my common sense whispered.
Pack one bag, walk into the woods before sunrise, disappear into the free towns beyond the border where royal blood means nothing. A peasant Omega can vanish if he is willing to be nobody forever.
But another voice (older, deeper, honey-thick) curled around my heart and said:
Stay.
Take them.
All ten.
I hated that voice.
I was terrified of how much I loved it.
The barn door creaked. I flinched, half-expecting Damon to step back out of the shadows with another prophecy and another impossible choice. Instead it was Caleb. He had been standing guard outside all night; raindrops still clung to his lashes and the ends of his blond hair. He looked exhausted, but his gray eyes were steady.
"I saddled two horses," he said quietly. "Fast ones. We can be across the Ashen Ford by midday. My legion will hide you. No one will touch you unless you wish it."
He didn't say "not even Aiden." He didn't have to. The ache in his voice said it for him.
I slid off the barrel. My legs felt like water. "And if I don't go with you?"
His jaw flexed. "Then I'll stay here and die before I let Blake drag you away in chains."
Simple. Brutal. Honest.
That was Caleb.
Before I could answer, hoofbeats (slow, deliberate) sounded on the muddy path. A single rider. Black cloak, black horse. Aiden.
He dismounted with the fluid grace of someone who had been born in the saddle. Rain had soaked him too, but it only made him look more dangerous: white shirt clinging to every line of muscle, black hair plastered to his forehead, blue eyes burning straight through the gloom to find me.
"Nalia." One word, and it carried command, plea, and apology all at once.
Caleb stepped forward, hand on his sword. Aiden's gaze flicked to him, cold and regal.
"Stand down, general. I'm not here to fight."
"Then why are you here?" Caleb asked.
Aiden reached inside his cloak and drew out a scroll sealed with crimson wax and the royal crest. He held it out to me, not to Caleb.
"Official summons," he said. "You are requested (no, required) to appear at the palace as my personal guest. Safe passage guaranteed. Royal protection for life." His eyes never left mine. "Come willingly, and no one will ever hurt you again."
I took the scroll with numb fingers. The wax cracked under my thumb. Inside, the words were beautiful and terrible: …by order of Crown Prince Aiden Valerian, the Omega known as Nalia of Willow-end is placed under direct protection of the throne…
Caleb's voice was low. "That's a prettier cage than Blake's chains, but it's still has bars."
Aiden's knuckles whitened on the reins. "It's safety."
"It's possession," Caleb snapped.
They glared at each other over my head, two storms about to collide.
And then a fourth horse arrived.
This one came from the treeline, not the road. A lean shadow on a gray mare. Damon. Hood still up, silver eyes catching the first rays of sunrise like twin blades.
He didn't dismount. He simply looked at the scroll in my hand, at Caleb's sword, at Aiden's clenched jaw, and gave the smallest, saddest smile I had ever seen.
"Too late," he said softly. "The wind shifted an hour ago. The scent is riding east on the dawn breeze. By tonight every Alpha in the capital will be awake."
Aiden went very still. "How many?"
"All of them," Damon answered. "Six more princes. The king's own mages. Half the court. And every unmated Alpha noble within fifty leagues." He looked at me, almost gentle. "You have until sunset before the roads fill with riders. After that, no legion, no royal seal, no hidden tower will keep them away."
Silence. Even the birds had stopped singing.
Four futures stood in front of me, wearing four different faces.
Aiden (crown prince) offered the palace, power, and a golden leash.
Caleb (general) offered exile and a sword that would die for me.
Damon (shadow) offered knowledge and the terrible freedom of truth.
And somewhere out there, Blake rode with rope and wicked promises.
I looked down at the scroll again. My hands were shaking.
There was a fifth road.
I don't know where the thought came from. Maybe it was the honey-voice inside me. Maybe it was the memory of Caleb's forehead against mine in the storm, or the way Aiden had whispered mine like a prayer. Maybe it was the prophecy burning behind my eyes.
But I heard myself speak, and my voice didn't tremble at all.
"I'm not running," I said. "And I'm not coming as a prisoner or a hidden pet."
I stepped forward, out from between them all, into the muddy yard where the new sun painted everything gold. I lifted my face to the light and let my pheromones (until now leaking helplessly) unfurl on purpose for the first time.
They burst from me like a silent sunrise.
I felt it roll out across the fields, across the sleeping village, across rivers and forests and marble walls miles away. A wordless call. A question and a command at once.
Come and see what I really am.
Aiden sucked in a breath like I'd struck him. Caleb swayed on his feet. Damon closed his eyes as if in pain.
In the distance, wolves began to howl. Not one pack. Many.
I looked at the three princes who had already fallen, and I smiled (small, terrified, and utterly certain).
"Tell the others," I said. "Tell them the Heartbinder is going to the palace. But not as a guest."
I crushed the royal summons in my fist.
"I'm going as myself. And if your brothers want me, they can come try to win me."
The words tasted like iron and honey.
Aiden stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time. Caleb's sword hand opened and closed, empty. Damon actually laughed once, soft and it sounded like surrender.
I turned toward the road that led east, toward the capital, toward the nine princes who hadn't met me yet and the one who wanted to chain me.
I was still only wearing my soaked peasant shirt and torn trousers. I had no money, no weapon, no plan.
But I had a heartbeat that felt suddenly too big for my chest, and a scent now riding the wind like a banner.
Behind me, three Alphas followed without being asked.
Ahead of me, seven more were waking up with my name already on their tongues.
I took the first step.
The road split four ways at the crossroads outside the village. North to Caleb's legions. South to Blake's ambush. West to nowhere. East to the palace.
I chose east.
And as the sun rose fully, painting the sky the color of fresh blood and ripe peaches, I heard it (far, far away, yet close enough to raise every hair on my body):
A single answering howl from the palace itself. Deep. Royal. Lonely.
One of the sleeping princes had just opened his eyes.
The game had begun.