Alexander
The training yard is empty at this hour except for Dominic, who's setting up practice dummies with methodical precision. He looks up as I approach, a grin spreading across his face.
"Well, if it isn't His Royal Grumpiness," he calls. "Come to beat the bad mood out of yourself?"
Despite everything, I feel myself smiling. Dominic has been my shadow since we were pups, the son of my father's most trusted warrior, trained from birth to be my Beta. Unlike everyone else, he's never treated me like I'm made of glass—or nitroglycerin.
"Something like that," I reply, shrugging off my formal jacket and rolling up my sleeves. "I need to hit something that won't complain to the council about it."
"Rough breakfast?" He tosses me a wooden practice sword.
I catch it with one hand. "The usual. 'Take a mate, fulfill the prophecy, save the kingdom.'"
"Just another Tuesday, then." He positions himself across from me, sword at the ready. "The Northern delegation arrived."
"So I heard." I circle him slowly. "Have you seen her? Princess Selene?"
Dominic feints left, then strikes right. I parry easily, the clash of wood echoing in the empty yard.
"Briefly," he says, blocking my counter-attack. "She's... impressive. Carries herself like she already wears a crown."
I press my advantage, forcing him back a step. "Another perfect political match, then."
"Maybe more than that." Dominic's eyes meet mine over our crossed swords. "There's something about her. Power recognizes power."
Before I can respond, I lunge forward, sweeping his legs. He jumps, avoiding the move, and counters with a strike that nearly catches my shoulder. As I twist away, I feel a familiar heat building in my palms—the healing power rising unbidden.
"Alex," Dominic warns, seeing the faint glow. "Control it."
I grit my teeth, trying to push the power down, but it's slipping. Lately, it's been harder to contain, especially when my emotions run high. As we continue sparring, I feel something else rising too—the Alpha dominance that comes from my father's bloodline.
Suddenly, both powers surge. The ground beneath us trembles, and the training yard's perimeter plants shoot upward, growing weeks' worth in seconds. At the same time, Dominic winces as a small cut appears on his forearm from a splintered edge of his practice sword.
Without thinking, I reach for him, the healing instinct overriding everything else. My palm glows brighter as I touch his arm, and the cut seals instantly, not even leaving a scar.
"Shit," I mutter, stepping back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," Dominic says, examining his now-perfect skin. "No harm done. But Alex..." He glances at the overgrown plants, then back at me. "This is happening more frequently. And with greater intensity."
I run a hand through my hair in frustration. "I know. It's like the closer I get to twenty-five, the harder it is to control either side of my nature. They're both getting stronger, but they're pulling in opposite directions."
"Have you talked to your mother about it? She understands the healing side better than anyone."
"And tell her what? That her son is falling apart at the seams?" I shake my head. "She and my father went through hell to bring me into this world, to protect me from those who wanted to kill me before I was even born because of the prophecy. I can't—" I break off, struggling to find the words.

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