I was so cold that I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering.
Unbearable icy cold settled deep into the marrow of my bones. A hard shiver raced down my spine as I sat on the small cot and curled into an even tighter ball in order to preserve any semblance of warmth through my tired limbs. I wound my arms around my knees at the same time that my stomach growled angrily in protest. I didn’t remember when I’d last eaten anything. A woman groaned near me and I looked around at the assortment of captive omegas all inside this dank wet cell with me.
In time, each one of us would be taken to be washed, poked, and prepared for sale. We’d be put up on stage in a cage for the highest bidder in order to raise funds for the enemy’s war.
Upon my capture, they’d stripped me of my clothes so that I had nothing with which to fight back. No weapons. No hidden blades.
Nothing.
The walk from Ravenrath to Kingsworth had taken more than a week by my estimation, but it had been difficult to tell because we were so far underground. I missed the warmth of the sun on my skin. All I’d felt was icy cold and moist air ever since and for some reason now it felt even worse.
I rubbed my left wrist. It was incredibly sore, and it hurt even more when I put pressure on it. I angled my arm just enough to catch what dim light was cast off by the torch some ways away and sucked in a gasp at what I saw. There was a small purple bruise and something of a round cut that was indicative of a sloppy blood draw.
They must have sedated us overnight and taken it without any of us knowing. What could they be looking for? They knew we were omegas, women destined to succumb to instinct that demanded they spread their legs for the nearest alpha. What more did they need to know than that terrible fate?
The clink of a steel-toed boot on stone rang out like a gunshot deep down here in the near-silence, catching me off guard. Chewing my lip, I lifted my gaze enough so that my eyes would still be hooded by my thick frame of eyelashes. I didn’t want them to know I was watching and waiting, looking for any hint of their identities or whatever else I could learn.
There were two of them dressed in blood-red robes. With the hoods up, I couldn’t quite see their faces. I studied their gait closely, recognizing the particular roll of a foot of one of the usual guards that had attended us for the past several days. It must be time to change shifts.
“I just can’t believe Borgan is dead,” one of them said, while the other scoffed in disbelief.
“It was about time for leadership to move, I think. That old man sat on the throne for almost sixty years already. He’d grown frail and weak,” he answered.
“That’s true. It leaves a little room for us to finally move up the chain, I guess.”
“What a way to go though, isn’t it? Eating a celebratory dinner at the delivery of a fresh set of highly profitable omegas, opening a fancy old bottle of wine, and dropping dead right in your plate of mashed potatoes and butter.”
One of the men snorted with laughter.
“I’d rather die with my cock sunk deep in some omega pussy.”
The laughter grew louder, and I heard the telltale sloshing of a liquid. I squinted my eyes and the man laughing was sipping something out of a metal pint glass. Probably beer or mead.
“Yeah, that would be a way to go, wouldn’t it.”
They were silent for a moment as they enjoyed their booze.
“What do you think of the new king? The one they’ll be crowning tonight?”
“Magnar? He’s strong and in his prime. They say he’s a warrior.”
“Is he now…”
“Yes. There’s a scar across his left cheek from someone that tried to kill him in his sleep. Rumor has it Magnar threw the man out a window and he screamed all the way down until he hit the rock below. When the sun rose in the morning, the rock was covered with the assassin’s blood.”
“I’d heard rumors that he was vicious. He’ll be a ruthless king and that’s exactly what Kingsworth needs.”
“Borgan has known peace for ages. He was never a king to act. He always sat back and just let things happen.”