To heal a Rogue

EDELINA

The knock came softly at first, a tentative scrape against the wood that barely registered beneath the sound of my own breathing. I paced the length of the sitting room, my fingers trailing along the back of the velvet settee as I counted the steps from the window to the fireplace and back again.

Twelve steps.

Always twelve.

The number had become a rhythm, something I could cling to whenever my thoughts threatened to spiral into places I did not want to follow.

Johann sat near the fire, a book open in his hands. The bruising beneath his eyes had faded to a faint yellow, and most of the swelling was gone, but he still looked worn down. He had been staring at the same paragraph for several minutes without turning the page. Every so often, his jaw shifted as he ground his teeth, betraying the tension he was trying so hard to conceal.

His shoulders remained rigid, and though his eyes stayed fixed on the book, I knew he was listening.

So was I.

Another knock came, louder this time.

”Enter,” I called, my voice sharp enough to carry across the room.

The door opened slowly, and one of the household Omegas stepped inside. She was young, with her brown hair pulled into a severe bun and her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Her hands were clenched around the fabric of her apron, her knuckles pale from the pressure.

She was trembling.

”Your Majesty,” she whispered, barely audible over the crackling fire. ”I bring a message from the Regent.”

My steps stopped.

”The Regent,” I repeated.

The words settled bitterly on my tongue.

The Omega swallowed. ”I was... I was told that... That... he... he requests your presence at dinner, Your Majesty. Both you and His Highness, Prince Johann.” Her fingers tightened around her apron. ”He insists that you dine together in the main hall.”

I stared at her.

”He says...” She hesitated, glancing up for the briefest moment before dropping her gaze again. ”He says that you are family, and family should bond over the dinner table.”

Something hot and vicious tightened in my chest.

The Omega flinched.

She lowered her head further, her shoulders drawing inward as though she were trying to make herself smaller. I could hardly blame her. She had been sent into a room where the air itself seemed to have grown tense, and she was unfortunate enough to be standing in the middle of it.

But I fucking needed an outlet for all the rage building inside me, and that arrogant little twat had just handed me one.

I crossed the room in three strides.

My hand moved before I could stop it, before thought had any chance to catch up with anger. The slap cracked through the chamber, sharp enough to make me flinch at the sound of it myself.

The Omega staggered sideways, one hand flying to her cheek. A red mark was already beginning to bloom across her pale skin.

”How dare you,” I hissed.

She stared at me, too frightened to even speak.

”How dare you come to my door with his commands?” My voice dropped, each word trembling with fury. ”Do you know who I am? Do you have any idea what I could do to you?”

”Mother.”

Johann’s voice cut through the haze clouding my mind.

I barely registered him moving until he was between us.

”Mother, stop.”

I turned toward him, my hand still raised, my chest rising and falling violently.

”Do not tell me to stop.” The words came out harsher than I intended, but I could not seem to pull myself back. ”This servant comes here carrying orders from that pretender, that thief sitting in your chair, and you expect me to simply—”

”She is doing her job.”

Johann’s voice remained steady.

He caught my wrist and lowered my arm, not roughly, but with enough firmness to make it clear he would not let me raise it again.

”She is just doing her job,” he repeated.

Then he stepped fully between us.

His back was straight, his shoulders squared, and there was a quiet authority in the way he held himself that I had not seen in him since before Cornelius died. He was still injured. He was still exhausted. Yet somehow, in that moment, he looked more like a prince than he had in days.

”Look at her, Mother.”

I did.

The Omega was pressed against the doorframe, her hair coming loose from its severe knot. Tears streamed silently down her face, and her fingers trembled against her cheek.

”She did not choose to bring you that message,” Johann said. ”She was sent. Probably by a higher-ranking Omega that did not want to deal with the brunt of your rage.”

The words landed harder than they should have.

I stared at the girl, then at my son.

The rage that had consumed me only moments ago began to collapse under its own weight, leaving something colder and far more unpleasant behind. My wrist felt strangely light where Johann had released it. My hand was still trembling.

I had struck her.

Not the Regent.

Not the man sitting in my son’s chair.

Her.

Something inside my chest loosened, and suddenly I felt hollow.

Johann turned away from me.

”Leave,” he told the Omega.

His voice softened.

”Go now and do not return.”

She did not need to be told twice.

She pushed herself away from the doorframe and hurried into the corridor, nearly stumbling in her haste. Her footsteps echoed down the hall, growing fainter with every second, but the memory of her frightened face remained.

I stood there in silence.

Johann did not look at me.

And somehow, that hurt more than if he had.

I sank into the nearest chair, my legs suddenly unable to hold me. My hands were still shaking.

I stared down at them, at the fingers that had struck that girl, and a wave of disgust rolled through me. It had nothing to do with the servant.

It was entirely directed at myself.

”He is playing games with us,” I muttered, forcing myself to slow my breathing. ”Mind games. Power games. He summons us like dogs to heel, as though we are his subjects instead of his family.” I tightened my fingers around the glass. ”He wants to humiliate us. He wants to remind us that he holds the leash now.”