The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 202

Selene

I walked alone along the winding garden path, my mind consumed with plotting my next move. Securing Alexander’s interest was progressing steadily, despite the watchful eyes of his sister and her growing suspicions. Yet, I knew I had to quicken the pace of our connection—carefully, so as not to appear eager or desperate. It was a delicate dance, one I had to master.

Lost in these thoughts, I rounded a neatly trimmed hedge and was surprised to see Alexander seated on a weathered stone bench. He was absorbed in an ancient manuscript, the pages yellowed and fragile. When he noticed me, a flicker of surprise crossed his face before he quickly composed himself and stood to greet me.

“Princess Selene,” he said with formal politeness, a hint of warmth beneath the surface. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“I was with your mother,” I replied, “but she was called away on urgent royal matters. She suggested I might find you here.” I nodded toward the book in his hands. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all,” Alexander assured me. After a brief pause, he added, “I was actually reviewing the prophecy text your delegation brought with them.”

That was perfect. “Have your scholars begun examining it?”

“They’re in the process,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart flutter. “It’s remarkable how well preserved it is, considering its age.”

“My ancestors prized knowledge above all else,” I explained, stepping closer to stand beside him. “Even in exile, they safeguarded our libraries and histories.”

A spark of curiosity—or maybe something deeper—shone in his eyes. “You mention exile. Our histories tell different stories about how the separation between our peoples came to be.”

This was a risky subject, but also a chance to deepen our bond. “History is always written by the victors, isn’t it?” I said carefully. “My ancestors recall a time when our lines ruled side by side—yours with the strength of Alpha, and mine with ancient magic that predates even your healing bloodlines.”

“And then what happened?” he asked, folding the book shut.

I chose my words with care. “A division took place. Some say betrayal, others call it necessary change. The healing bloodlines allied with your ancestors, tipping the scales. My people were… removed from influence.”

“Removed,” he echoed, his expression unreadable. “A diplomatic way of saying there was likely a bloody conflict.”

“All ancient conflicts are bloody, Prince Alexander,” I said firmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. “What truly matters is how we mend those wounds now.” I let the weight of my words hang between us. “Perhaps that’s the real meaning of the prophecy—not just your personal balance of power, but the restoration of harmony between our peoples.”

He was silent for a long moment, clearly weighing my interpretation. “An interesting perspective. Convenient, too.”

I caught the subtle challenge in his tone. “You doubt my intentions.”

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