The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 225

**TITLE: Never Love 225**

**Chapter 225**

A shiver runs down my spine as her words resonate within me. “How can you possibly know about my birthmark?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of her insight unsettling.

Her finger taps lightly against her temple, a gesture that seems both playful and profound. “The same way I sensed your presence the moment you stepped foot on the palace grounds, even before anyone uttered a word about it.” She leans in slightly, her eyes glimmering with an intensity that makes me feel exposed. “The gifts I inherited from my parents manifest in ways that differ from Alexander’s. He possesses both healing abilities and the formidable strength of an Alpha. As for me… I have other talents.”

“Foresight,” I venture, recalling Elder Thalia’s words about the younger royal child possessing the gift of true sight.

“Among other things,” she confirms, a hint of pride in her voice. “I can sense energies, connections that bind us all. The instant you crossed the threshold into this palace, I felt you—like a vibrant new hue suddenly introduced into a painting I’ve been gazing at for years.” Her demeanor shifts, softening as she continues. “And the silver thread that links you to my brother? It glows so brightly that it nearly overwhelms my other senses.”

A part of me wants to dismiss her claims, to retreat into skepticism, yet her conviction draws me in. “Does anyone else know I’m here?” I ask, a thread of anxiety weaving through my thoughts.

“No one,” she replies firmly. “I’ve taken every precaution to ensure that no one follows me.” With a swift motion, she reaches into the satchel slung across her shoulder, retrieving a neatly wrapped bundle of clean linen. “I brought proper medical supplies. Those bruised ribs of yours deserve better than the hasty treatment one would receive on a battlefield.”

I must look taken aback, for she chuckles softly, the sound lightening the atmosphere. “I have some healing training as well, you know. While it’s not as extensive as that of a true healer, it’s enough to be of assistance.”

As she unwraps the linen, revealing an assortment of salves, bandages, and dried herbs that I recognize as pain relievers, I find myself marveling at her preparedness. “I understand why you hesitate to use your own powers to heal yourself,” she continues, surprising me with her perceptiveness. “Your abilities operate differently from those of other healers. They drain your energy, and you don’t feel secure enough to allow yourself the rest you need. But I promise you, you are safe here.”

With a deep breath, I finally set the knife aside, the tension in my shoulders easing just a fraction. “Thank you,” I murmur, the gratitude I feel far too immense to be contained in mere words.

“Preparing,” she says, her tone grim. “This morning, several trunks were delivered to their quarters—items that are quite unusual, according to the servants who reported back to me. Ceremonial bowls, silver instruments, herbs that aren’t typically used in diplomatic affairs.”

“Ritual implements,” I interpret, dread pooling in my stomach like a stone. “For the binding ceremony.”

“Exactly.” Her violet eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that sends a shiver through me. “They are planning something for tonight, during the final moments of the Gala when tradition dictates that Alexander must announce his choice.”

A wave of foreboding crashes over me, a dark abyss that I feel myself teetering on the edge of. My thoughts race, grasping for any viable plan to thwart their intentions, but every idea slips away like sand through my fingers.

All I can do is lift a silent prayer to the Goddess above, hoping against hope that she will intervene for the bond she crafted with her own hands.