The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 232

Chapter 232

“You look troubled, Princess,” my head attendant observes, adjusting a stray curl. “Tonight is your triumph. The culmination of everything you’ve worked toward.”

Is it? I wonder silently. Or is it the moment I become complicit in something unforgivable?

As evening approaches and the final preparations for the Gala commence, I move through the palace like a ghost, greeting dignitaries and council members with practiced charm while my thoughts churn with increasingly desperate alternatives.

The Great Ballroom glitters with thousands of candles and crystal decorations, more elaborate than previous nights as befits the Gala’s conclusion. Alexander hasn’t yet arrived, but his parents preside from their thrones, the queen’s violet eyes seeming to follow me with an uncomfortable perception.

When Alexander finally enters, resplendent in formal attire that emphasizes his royal status, our eyes meet across the crowded room. Something in his gaze has changed since yesterday–a wariness, a distance that suggests he knows more than he should about our plans.

Has Lyra reached him somehow? The thought sends a chill through me. If she’s revealed what happened in the forest, if she’s warned him about the ritual…

I force myself to approach him with practiced grace, curtseying deeply before rising into his formal embrace for our expected dance. As we begin to move across the floor, I search his face for signs of knowledge or suspicion.

“You disappeared last night, Princess,” he observes, his tone carefully neutral. “A diplomatic matter requiring attention, I was told.”

“Yes,” I reply smoothly. “Urgent communications from my homeland.

His eyes–those remarkable violet eyes that mark his dual heritage–study me with uncommon intensity. “Strange timing for urgent communications. Especially on the eve of the Gala’s conclusion.”

“Diplomacy rarely respects social calendars, Your Highness.”

A slight smile touches his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. Just as prophecy rarely concerns itself with individual desires.”

The pointed reference makes me wonder exactly what he knows. Does he suspect our plans for tonight? Has he discovered the truth about our version of the prophecy?

As the dance continues, I become increasingly certain that Alexander is playing a role as carefully as I am–maintaining appearances while concealing his true intentions. The realization both alarms and, strangely, relieves me. Perhaps he already has plans to avoid whatever Vega has set in motion.

But as I glance around the ballroom, I note the positioning of members of our delegation–strategically placed near exits, near the royal family, near the refreshment tables where the final toast will be prepared. Even if Alexander suspects something, he’s surrounded by those ready to ensure our plan succeeds.

The evening progresses with formal dances, speeches from visiting dignitaries, and increasingly pointed speculation about the heir’s impending announcement. Tradition dictates that by the Gala’s conclusion, Alexander must indicate his choice of potential mate, beginning formal courtship that will culminate in mating before his coronation.

Vega catches my eye from across the room, a subtle gesture indicating I should position myself appropriately as the final toast approaches. Servants are already preparing the ceremonial goblets, one of which will contain the catalyst that will trigger

Chapter 232

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Alexander’s division.

My heart pounds as the moment of decision approaches. The king rises, silencing the room with his commanding presence, to make the announcement that will lead to the traditional toast.

“As the Choosing Gala concludes,” he begins, “tradition dictates that the heir indicates his preference among the honored

guests who have come seeking alliance through mating.”

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