The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 205

I walked alone along the winding garden path, my mind racing with plans for what to do next. Securing Alexander’s attention was going better than I had hoped, despite the watchful eyes of his sister, who clearly harbored doubts about me. Still, I knew I had to deepen our connection quickly, yet without seeming too eager—a delicate dance I needed to master. The cool breeze ruffled the leaves overhead, and the scent of blooming jasmine filled the air, but my thoughts remained firmly fixed on Alexander.

Turning a corner, I was surprised to find him sitting quietly on a weathered stone bench, deeply engrossed in an ancient manuscript. His head lifted as I approached, surprise flickering across his face before he masked it with a composed smile and stood up to greet me.

“Princess Selene,” he said with a formal nod. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I smiled softly, trying to sound casual. “Your mother was leading a tour, but she was called away on urgent royal matters. She mentioned I might find you here.” I gestured toward the book in his hands. “I hope I’m not disturbing your reading.”

“Not at all,” he assured me, pausing briefly. “Actually, I was reviewing the prophecy text your delegation brought with them.”

That was exactly the opening I needed. “Have your scholars begun their analysis?”

“They’re working on it now,” Alexander replied, his sharp eyes studying me intently. “It’s impressive how well preserved the document is, given its age.”

I moved to stand beside him, feeling the warmth of the afternoon sun on my skin. “My ancestors prized knowledge above all else,” I said quietly. “Even in exile, they safeguarded our libraries and histories.”

His gaze sharpened, a flicker of curiosity lighting up his eyes. “You mentioned exile. The history of your people’s separation from ours differs greatly from what we have been told.”

I sensed the danger in treading this ground, yet I also recognized the chance it presented. “History is always written by the victors, isn’t it? My ancestors remember a time when our lines ruled side by side—yours with Alpha strength, and mine with ancient magic that predates even the healing bloodlines.”

Alexander’s brow furrowed. “And what happened then?”

I chose my words carefully, aware of the weight they carried. “A division occurred. Some call it betrayal, others say it was necessary change. The healing bloodlines aligned with your ancestors, tipping the balance of power. My people were… removed from influence.”

“Removed,” he echoed, his expression unreadable. “A diplomatic phrase, no doubt, for what I imagine was a violent conflict.”

“All conflicts of that era were bloody, Prince Alexander,” I replied steadily. “What truly matters is how we mend those wounds now.” I met his gaze squarely. “Perhaps that is the real meaning of the prophecy—not just the balance of your personal powers, but the restoration of harmony between our peoples.”

He was silent for a long moment, lost in thought. “An intriguing interpretation. And a convenient one, at that.”

I caught the subtle challenge in his tone and met it head-on. “You doubt my intentions.”

He shrugged slightly, his voice calm and pragmatic. “I’d be a poor future king if I didn’t consider every possibility.”

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