Omega’s Gamble by Claire Cullen
Chapter Twenty-Three
Raineall but ran from the parlor and into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He stood inside the room, breathing hard. None of what he’d just heard sounded good. It wasn’t unexpected that his father would want the marriage annulled. Once he got his wish, it would be hushed up as quickly as possible. Raine would be sent far away, where he’d never be a thorn in anyone’s side ever again. He was painfully aware that, like Darien himself, the alpha’s family wasn’t exactly supportive of their marriage. He knew that Darien’s father had seen some advantage to the union and that was the only reason it had gone ahead. If he’d changed his mind, if the pressure Raine’s father brought to bear was too much…
Fear and anger warred through him. Why had Darien acted like he didn’t want this to be over when Raine knew he’d never wanted to be married in the first place? Why hadn’t he just said that he wanted to end things? If it came down to him or the kingdom, he knew the prince would never choose him. He couldn’t even blame him for that. But the excuse to end their marriage was right there in front of him, so why didn’t he just take it? Why lead Raine on like this, make it sound like a hard choice?
He heard Darien leave the parlor and head off into the castle, his heavy footsteps fading into the distance. Once Raine was sure he was gone, he slipped from the room and made his way back to his workshop. It hadn’t been easy getting all the supplies he’d needed, but Etta’s advice had paid off. He’d managed to scrounge up the rest from various store cupboards and disused rooms.
He stared around the small room with satisfaction. A fire burned in the hearth, an adhesive mixture bubbled away in a cauldron, and Ferno was flaked out on a rug, looking like he belonged there. Raine was happy in this room, whiling away the empty hours learning his craft. He didn’t want to give this up. But there were other forces at work, pressures from without and within. He knew how his father could be, though he didn’t know why he’d taken such exception to this marriage. Raine was far away, out of his sight, exactly where the king wanted him. Wasn’t that enough? Or did his father have to know that he was suffering for all eternity? Was it so important to the king that he never find a modicum of happiness, that he’d break all the rules just to wrench Raine away from this life?
And now King Tiberius wanted Raine to report home that he was happy and healthy and enjoying a good marriage. He’d say whatever had to be said, lie or not. Only… Would that not act like a red rag to a bull, incensing his father further and making him more determined to bring Raine home?
The fear and dread made him anxious and jittery, so he did what he always did when he didn’t want to face life head-on—he got stuck into his work. He’d had the plans for his new project sketched out for over a week. Distracted by Darien and their outings, he hadn’t made as much progress as he’d hoped. But this might be his last chance. He’d scrounged up or made all the individual components. Now all that was left to do was to construct the shell to carry it and then construct the device itself. The former was the easy part—he was using a combination of scrap metal from the forge’s stores and jewelry from his own collection. It was just a prototype, and it would probably turn out to be less than practical in its current form. The real test was getting the device to actually work. He could always design something else to house it later.
He gave himself over to it, working all day and almost forgetting to break for a meal until he heard the servants rattling around the corridor. They never thought to look for him in any of the other rooms, and even if they did, the door to his workshop was locked. He slipped in and out through a door into the adjoining room, where he’d set up an easel and some canvas. If anyone encountered him there, he’d pretend he was trying his hand, badly, at watercolors.
He made himself get up and go to the parlor for dinner, eating quickly and barely tasting his food. Afterward, he asked the servants to pass a message to Prince Darien that he wouldn’t meet him in the morning room that evening. He wasn’t ready to face the alpha, not yet. He also asked them to make a request to Lord Alton for him to use the touchstone. If his marriage really was coming to an end, he didn’t intend on letting them send him home. Milo would help him, he was sure of it.
As soon as was practical, he hurried back to the workshop. As daylight disappeared, he worked by dim candlelight and old torches so as not to be spotted from outside. His eyes burned, his fingers grew tired, but he worked on. He turned all his anger and fear inward, using it to fuel his passion. He would master this one thing and that might be enough to slake his thirst if he was forced to leave all this behind.
Just as the first rays of dawn peeked into the room, he painstakingly set the heart of the device, powered by celestial silver, into the center of the glove. It glowed brightly for one heart-stopping moment, a silver sheen that ran along the fingers of metal and across the gleaming rings, and then it faded. It didn’t look the most impressive thing. More like a strangely impractical piece of jewelry. There was a band of metal that secured around the wrist, and a ring for the thumb, middle, and small fingers. The wrist band and the rings were connected across the back of the hand by thin strands of metal.
In the center of the palm sat a disk, connected by those same metal chains to the wrist band and rings. The disk didn’t look like much, just a flat circle of metal. Except that it wasn’t just metal. A layer of celestial silver coated one side of the disk. When that disk was pressed against a surface with some force, the metal would react with the silver and send a concentration of magical energy outward. Any spelled material in its path would be destroyed.
Raine slipped it on carefully, testing the movement of his hand to be sure nothing pinched or caught. It felt a little loose, so he tightened some of the chains. Too loose, and it might break when he tested it. That wouldn’t be much use. Experimentally, he slapped his hand on the table, wincing in anticipation. The only reaction was the sound of metal hitting wood; that and a small dent in the tabletop. That was a good sign—it didn’t react to non-spelled materials. He’d been concerned that it was too volatile and might activate when it shouldn’t.
The next thing to test was if it worked. For that, he needed something spelled. There were spelled objects within the castle he could try, but he was reluctant to for two good reasons. Firstly, in case the reaction was bigger than he expected and drew attention his way. And secondly, because most of the spelled objects in the tower were lights. Lights weren’t just spelled; they had their own energy source to contend with. For this test, he needed a relatively inert spelled material. Like, say, the wood of a pirate ship. He’d heard enough rumors to know that the pirates were now using spelled ships with each attack. Some of those ships had been destroyed, which meant there were bits of spelled wood coming in on the tide like flotsam. All Raine had to do was find some.
“I don’t suppose you want to come for a walk?” he asked Ferno. The cat opened one sleepy eye to stare at him before rolling over and falling back asleep. “Then I guess I’m on my own.”
Wrapping the glove carefully in a cloth, he slipped it into the pocket of his cloak and put it on, following it with the rest of his outer layers. It might take a while to find what he was looking for, so there was no point taking chances with the weather.
He exited the castle through a side door, nodding to the guard who didn’t seem surprised to see him. He’d watched Raine pass through the door at odd hours often enough. Raine stepped out into the early morning light but faltered when he saw the heavy mist covering everything.
“You’ll want to mind your step,” the guard shouted after him.
“I will,” he called back.
Knowing this wasn’t the time to make foolish mistakes, he followed the path he knew best, which took him down a slight incline onto a rocky beach. His feet slid a little on the damp stones, but the grip of his boots helped him stay upright. He followed the beach as it wound around the coastline until he was walking on damp sand rather than rock, out of view of the castle. The mist meant he couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead. But it also meant that no one could see him until they were right on top of him. The perfect screen for his little test. All he needed now was a piece of spelled wood.
He walked closer to the shoreline, his eyes peeled for the darker wood against the lighter sand. He came upon a few splintered pieces half-buried in the sand, but they were too small for his purposes, and as far as he could tell, they hadn’t been spelled. Disappointed, he moved on, running his eyes in a line from sea to shore as he slowly walked the length of the beach. The sun rose higher, but it still struggled to dispel the heavy mist, leaving him in a world of ghostly brightness that left a sheen of moisture on his skin.
He spied more wood floating on the water, carried in on the tide. Making his way toward it, he waded a few steps into the sea to grab hold of it and drag it onto dry land. The piece was bigger, enough to test out the glove on, but a quick examination revealed no signs of magic. Just normal wood. Undeterred, he continued his search, combing every foot of the beach methodically. This was the longest stretch of unbroken and open beach near the castle, so it was his best chance of finding the kind of wreckage he needed. But each piece he found had the same problem—it hadn’t been spelled.
Frustration got the better of him, and he flopped down onto the sand. Maybe the spelled ships were so good that none of them ever ran aground or got scuttled by the guards. But that didn’t help him, since it meant he’d never get a chance to find out if the glove worked. How would he learn, if he couldn’t make mistakes and fix them?
After a quick look around to make sure no one was approaching through the mist, he took the cloth-covered glove from his pocket and unwrapped it. It gleamed in the faint sunlight, looking even brighter than it had in his dim workshop. It only took a moment to slip it on, feeling the cool metal heat up against his palm. To the casual observer, it looked like an eclectic piece of jewelry, the kind an odd omega like him would wear. Something appealed to him about that idea. Hiding tools and weapons in plain sight, meant to look like something else. No one would stop him from walking around with something that looked ornamental. No one would suspect him to be dangerous or able to protect himself. But with alchemy, and a good supply of celestial silver, there was no limit to what he could create.
Lost in thought, so many ideas spinning around in his head, he noticed too late the sounds carried upon the waves. He glanced up just in time to see the boat bearing down on him, men already jumping out and running across the sand. He leaped to his feet and turned to run, only for rough hands to seize him. He was tossed over a broad shoulder and carried away, his shouts lost on the sea breeze.