Omega’s Gamble by Claire Cullen

Chapter Three

Darien spentthe morning training in the yard with Rex. It was as good a way as any to distract himself from the presence of the airship right outside the castle. The first year it had landed, he’d had hope. A good match would have secured an ally for his family, would have provided some protection for their isolated kingdom. He remembered his nervous anticipation that morning as he’d watched the airship come in to land. And how that anticipation had soured to disappointment when reality set in, and he realized none of the princes were getting out. The airship took off again that afternoon, and he’d turned his back on the idea of marriage. Instead, he’d put all his efforts into being the best alpha he could be for his kingdom. He didn’t need some pampered, sniveling omega to protect his people—he and his brothers could do that themselves.

Rex’s stick smacked against his shoulder.

“Where’s your head at, Darien?”

“Between my shoulders, where it always is. You’re the one with your head in the clouds.”

He neatly blocked Rex’s next blow, throwing his brother off-balance before sweeping his legs out from under him. Rex wound up flat on his back, staring up at him.

“So it’s got nothing to do with that airship hanging around like a bad smell?”

“Means nothing, you know that. They come every year and refuel on their way to somewhere else.”

Rex seemed in no hurry to get back up or change the topic. “Just once, it would be nice if they gave us a chance.”

“We both know why they won’t.”

Well, they didn’t know for certain, but they had their suspicions. Each year that passed, each time they were overlooked, only cemented that leaden feeling in his stomach.

He held out a hand and pulled Rex to his feet, tossing him back his stick.

“Go again?”

Rex let the stick fall. “Nah. Let’s change it up a bit. Hand to hand, no weapons, free-for-all.”

Darien grinned. Free-for-all was his favorite. It meant no limits. It meant shifting. And on a day like today, where he felt like his skin didn’t fit right, the less time he spent in his own head the better. He threw down his stick, raised his fists, and circled Rex. His brother tracked his every movement, his body lithe and relaxed. This was going to be fun.

Darien dropped his hands and took off at a run, shifting as he did. He needed speed and agility, so a cheetah form was a good choice. He used the momentum to run up the stone wall of the yard, turning in time to see that Rex had shifted into a leopard. His brother always did love a good catfight.

He landed back on the floor of the yard and crouched, watching and waiting for Rex to make a move. His brother wasn’t one to be hurried. Rex’s gaze was fixed on him before it darted away, watching something over Darien’s left shoulder. Not one to fall for so obvious a trick as that, Darien didn’t move. At the last second, he sensed movement behind him, throwing himself to the side just as Thorne landed with a thud where he’d been crouched.

Thorne’s tiger was bigger than either of their two cats, but in the confined space of the yard, bigger wasn’t always better. Darien dodged him easily and used the distraction of his arrival to go for Rex. He pounced, catching Rex unawares, and pinned him to the floor. There was a moment when he thought Rex had conceded, but where was the fun in that? And then they were tussling, rolling across the arena, paws batting, jaws clamping down. Hard enough to hurt but not to do any real damage. They were brothers, after all. They stood shoulder to shoulder against the kingdom’s enemies.

He managed to best Rex, pinning him to the ground once more with his jaws clamped around the nape of his neck. Rex chuffed beneath him, relaxing in his grip. They were done.

Before that thought had fully formed in his head, Thorne bowled into him, sending him flying. Rex jumped to his feet and darted away while Thorne gave chase. Darien took off after them, determined not to be left behind as they escaped the confines of the training yard and headed out onto the moor.

It was late morning when they finally traipsed back toward the castle, soaked and muddy, bruises and scratches covering their skin. Rex’s grin stretched from ear to ear, and Darien couldn’t help smiling when he met his eyes.

“Now that was fun. I’ve missed fun.”

“We have fun all the time,” Darien argued. “Sure, weren’t we having a great time chasing pirates onto the rocks just yesterday?”

“That’s different. There are stakes. Consequences if we fail. Fun is the absence of repercussions.”

“I don’t know,” Thorne threw in, wincing as he rotated his shoulder. “This doesn’t feel like a lack of consequences.”

“Don’t be a baby. It’s just a muscle strain.”

Darien let his younger brothers snipe at each other as they made their way home, content just to listen. Their play-fighting had quieted his thoughts and worked out some of the agitation that had been getting at him. Which, come to think of it, was probably the reason Rex and Thorne had sought him out. Who knew him better than they did?

Lord Alton appeared in the distance, hurrying to meet them. He was one of the king’s advisors, prone to hand-wringing and doomsaying. Darien never had much time for him. He preferred the levelheadedness of Lord Varken, who dealt with castle security. Lord Alton’s purview was the day-to-day running of the castle, its staff, and general matters. His usual complaint was that Darien and his brothers weren’t acting ‘princely’ enough. Decorum be damned. They were practically under siege.

“Lord Alton,” he called in greeting. “Something the matter?”

The lord looked them up and down, paling as he took in their torn clothes and various cuts and scrapes.

“You’re not dressed.”

Rex glanced down at himself and then over at Darien and Thorne. “We most certainly are. This is my favorite training tunic.”

Darien could tell he wasn’t joking from the sheer number of times the tunic had been mended. It was more stitches than material.

“For the festival. You’re not dressed for the festival.”

Darien didn’t bother to hide his glower.

“Why would we be? The festival’s a farce. Just have at it already and give the food to those who need it. Why wait until it’s past its best?”

“But my princes, we have guests…”

“Guests who’ll never set foot outside their air-conditioned flying palace,” Thorne said, striding past Alton without pause. Darien followed, Rex on his heels.

Lord Alton called after them, but they ignored him.

“What’s got him so upset?” Rex wondered.

“What hasn’t? Last week, he had a meltdown over the table settings.”

Darien was about to weigh in when the three of them turned a corner and found their father waiting. He took in their appearances with a measured look.

“Lord Alton was looking for you.”

“He seemed upset that we weren’t dressed for the festival that never happens,” Darien told him.

“We paid him no mind,” Rex added cheerfully, moving to walk on. “There’s a bath of steaming water calling my name.”

Thorne went to follow him, but Darien hesitated. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen quite that look on his father’s face.

“Not so fast,” the king said. “You have a guest to greet.”

“Wait, what?” Rex said. “Who the hell…?”

The king silenced him with a sharp glance.

“We were told to expect a small delegation. One omega prince and a facilitator. They’ve just arrived and are waiting in the outer hall.”

“Which kingdom?” Darien asked flatly. This had to be some sort of trick. Or maybe someone just wanted to gawp at the savages.

“We’re attempting to confirm that now. There seems to be some confusion.”

“Confusion?” Definitely a trick.

“The omega they informed us was being presented is not the omega prince that’s arrived. A slight mishap, apparently.”

“They’re making fun of us,” Thorne said tightly, his hands clenched into fists.

“They wouldn’t dare,” their father all but growled.

Except they did. Every single year. By landing and refueling but never fulfilling their obligation to the kingdom of Stormshield. Denying them royal matches, denying them royal heirs. Denying their kingdom its rightful place in the world.

An aide crossed the corridor toward them, leaning in to murmur in the king’s ear. Their father’s eyes widened briefly before he sent the aide away with a wave of his hand.

“Our guest is Prince Raine. A third prince. The youngest son of the king of Ludinia.”

Third prince was low on the totem pole, but that didn’t surprise Darien. What did was the kingdom of Ludinia deigning to send any prince their way. They were one of the most prominent royal families in the alliance. The wheels were already spinning in his mind at this strange turn of events. He met his father’s calculating look with one of his own.

“It’s some kind of ploy, it has to be.”

“No.” The king seemed quite certain. “If it was a honeypot, they’d sweeten the deal. And they wouldn’t send him alone. It would be more organized. Lord Alton said the airship guards seem harried. They weren’t expecting this any more than we were.”

Darien accepted his father’s reasoning with a slow nod. But he wasn’t expecting the king’s next words.

“One of you will have to marry him, of course.”

The silence was so heavy, Darien was certain they could have heard the wing beat of a moth.

“You’re joking, right? That’s a joke?” Rex said, shaking his head and trying not to laugh.

“Why would I jest? Think what a marriage would mean for us. A bond in law to one of King Uldar’s sons.”

It might go a long way toward providing the protection they’d so desperately been lacking these past few years.

“Not it,” Rex said immediately, holding up his hands. “I am so not ready to be tied down in a marriage of convenience. Or inconvenience.”

Darien deliberately didn’t look at Thorne, but he knew his brother’s gaze was aimed his way.

“I feel this is a case of seniority,” Thorne said slowly.

Darien blew out a breath. “I’m barely a year older than you.”

“But you admit you’re older. Ergo, you should marry first. It’s tradition.”

Darien looked to their father, hoping against hope this was some sort of cruel joke.

“One of you must marry this omega. I demand it. But Thorne is right, Darien. As the eldest, you carry more responsibility.”

Thorne all but punched the air.

“That said, I see no reason why that means it has to be you. All three of you will meet the omega prince. Perhaps one of you will take a liking to him. It makes married life easier when you aren’t repulsed by your mate.”

The smug smile on Rex’s face disappeared, as did the relief on Thorne’s.

“Go, make yourselves more presentable. We mustn’t keep our guests waiting.”

As far as Darien was concerned, they could wait until hell froze over. Which, given the winter that Stormshield was headed for, would probably be any day now.

He glanced down at himself, taking in the mud, the long tear down the leg of his pants, the blood still oozing onto his tunic from the graze across his stomach. He met his brothers’ eyes, nodding subtly. They grinned and, as one, turned toward the main hall.

“You’re right,” Darien called over his shoulder. “We shouldn’t keep the prince waiting another minute.”

They got three steps before the king called after them, the first hint of alarm in his voice.

“Darien, what are you…? Boys? Boys!”

As they stomped down the corridor, Darien grinned to himself. If this prince wanted a show, they’d give him one.