The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 268

**TITLE: Never Love 268**

The council chamber feels suffocating this morning—a gilded cage, meticulously crafted from the threads of obligation, duty, and the tangled web of politics. It keeps me firmly anchored in a place I would rather escape. My gaze drifts repeatedly to the window, lingering on the eastern gate, where I know Lyra will soon depart with Kieran. An unsettling churn of anxiety twists in my gut at the thought of her leaving the palace, of her traveling with another man who, I can see all too clearly, harbors feelings for her. The very idea fills me with a restless fury that I struggle to suppress.

“Your Highness?” Lord Harrison’s voice slices through my reverie, pulling me back to the present. “What are your thoughts on the proposal from the Northern territories?”

I force myself to refocus on the stack of documents laid out before me, battling the agitation that threatens to spill over. “Their offer of partial reparations is utterly insufficient,” I declare, my eyes scanning the diplomatic jargon that attempts to mask the Northern delegation’s blatant effort to downplay the severity of their actions. “They engaged in an unprovoked attack on our throne. I refuse to accept anything less than full accountability for their transgressions.”

A murmur ripples through the council members; some nod in agreement while others wear expressions of concern.

“The Northern territories possess considerable military strength,” one councilor reminds me, his tone careful, as if walking on eggshells. “Pushing too hard could provoke open conflict.”

“Open conflict?” I retort, my voice rising in indignation. “What would you call it when they kidnap your future king and force him into a deadly ritual? They should count themselves fortunate that the full might of the royal army isn’t marching to their doorstep as we speak.”

“Accepting compensation is already a compromise,” I continue, my voice steady but firm. “To allow magical attacks on the royal family to go unpunished would only invite further aggression.” I glance around the room, my gaze landing on the members who have remained silent, weighing their reactions. “Princess Selene has shown herself to be reasonable in negotiations thus far. She knows her people must make amends.”

“Speaking of Princess Selene,” Lady Merrick interjects, her tone deceptively casual, “has Your Highness reconsidered her potential as a suitable match? Despite recent… complications, a political alliance would still serve the kingdom well.”

Her suggestion ignites a surge of pure rage within me that I fight to contain. My connection to Lyra flickers uncomfortably in response, as if sensing my emotional upheaval.

“My mating choices are not open for discussion today, Lady Merrick,” I reply, my voice dangerously calm, each word measured. “To be perfectly clear for all those present—I have found my true mate. That matter is settled.”

A heavy silence blankets the room following my declaration. I have been deliberately vague in official communications regarding my bond with Lyra, referring to her as an “honored guest” rather than explicitly naming her as my mate. This direct statement leaves no room for misinterpretation or political maneuvering.

Lord Harrison clears his throat, breaking the tension. “Of course, Your Highness. We merely wish to ensure that all diplomatic avenues remain open during this delicate transition.”

“The best diplomatic avenue,” I assert firmly, “is to demonstrate that our kingdom values healing abilities as much as Alpha strength, that we protect all Lycan bloodlines, regardless of their gifts, and that we will not tolerate attacks driven by prejudice against healing magic.”

Several councilors shift uncomfortably in their seats, and I can sense the tension in the air. For days, I have suspected that certain factions oppose the integration of healing communities, despite my parents’ years of effort to combat such prejudice. Now, observing their reactions to my statement, I can begin to identify who belongs to this resistance.

Councilor Rickham, Lady Merrick, and Lord Reynard all display subtle but telling signs of discomfort—averted eyes, restless fingers tapping against the polished wood of the table, and stiffening postures. Three powerful nobles, each with extensive territories and ancient bloodlines, all seemingly opposed to the integration that the prophecy demands.

Before I can respond, a wave of dizziness washes over me, unbidden. My hands begin to glow faintly with healing energy, an involuntary manifestation that I hadn’t consciously summoned. The surge passes quickly, but not before my mother notices the glow.

“The separation from Lyra affects you more strongly than anticipated,” she observes, her concern evident in her voice.

“It’s manageable,” I insist, though the evidence suggests otherwise.

“For now, perhaps. But these surges will likely intensify the longer you remain apart.” She places a comforting hand on my arm, her touch grounding me. “Your father experienced similar difficulties during our early separations. The dual nature you inherited from us makes such reactions more pronounced.” Just as she finishes speaking, another surge hits without warning—this time, it’s Alpha energy, causing the nearby plants to bend away as if sensing a predator in their midst. I clench my fists, focusing on the control techniques I’ve practiced since childhood, yet the power seems to recede on its own timeline, indifferent to my will.

“I need to find Vega’s bloodline connection quickly,” I state once the surge passes, urgency threading through my voice. “The temporary stabilization won’t last indefinitely, especially with these… complications.”

“Dominic has researchers combing the archives,” my mother assures me, her tone reassuring. “If Vega has living relatives, we will find them.”

She wraps her arms around me, offering a warmth and affection that she has never shied away from, even amidst the cold expectations of the court surrounding us. Her healing energy flows through me as we share a brief moment of peace, mother to son. I allow her words to reassure me, believing that Vega or her relative will indeed be found.

Yet, what neither of us dares to voice, what hangs heavy in the air unspoken, is the fate that awaits me if they do not.