THE UNSEEN PAIN

(Kael's POV)

The palace felt… different. Not in a grand, sweeping way, but in the subtle shift of shadows, the almost imperceptible hush that settled over the corridors. Three days. Three days of forced respite, courtesy of Prince Alaric, had passed since the… revelation. Since the earth had cracked open and swallowed my carefully constructed reality whole. Okay, to put that in a simple way, Alaric made me take a three days rest because I was “sick”.

I took a deep breath, or tried to. The scent-blocker clung to the inside of my nostrils, a chemical barrier I’d fortified in the last few days. It was a suffocating necessity, a shield against the truth that pulsed beneath my skin, a truth Alaric had made so abundantly clear he despised. "Never, ever, let me smell that scent near me again," his words echoed in my head, a brutal mantra I was determined to uphold.

The Lower Quarters felt like a distant memory. I navigated the opulent hallways, the familiar tapestries and polished floors mocking the turmoil within me. Each step was a conscious effort, a refusal to betray the omega that screamed for release, for connection, for him.

I reached the Prince's study, the large oak door looming like a judgment. Taking another fortifying breath, I knocked softly.

"Enter," his voice, a resonant baritone I usually found calming, now sent a shiver down my spine. A shiver I desperately tried to suppress.

He sat behind his desk, scrolls spread before him, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up, and his gaze met mine. There was a flicker of something in his eyes – concern? – before it vanished, replaced by the polite neutrality he’d worn before our… bond had been revealed.

"Kael," he said, his voice softer than I expected. "Welcome back. I trust the rest was beneficial?"

"Yes, Your Highness," I replied, my voice carefully neutral. "Thank you for your consideration."

He inclined his head. "Good. We have much to catch up on."

And so began the charade. He treated me with the same distant courtesy as before, assigning tasks, dictating letters, discussing matters of state. He was… kind. Attentive. It was exactly the kind of behavior I’d longed for, the kind that had allowed a foolish hope to blossom in my chest. But now, it was torture. Because I knew. I knew his kindness was born of guilt, not affection.

The problem wasn't his actions, it was him. Or rather, his scent.

Before, I’d been able to ignore it, to categorize it as simply the scent of an Alpha, of royalty. Now, it was an assault on my senses. It permeated the air, a heady blend of cedarwood and spice, overlaid with a primal musk that spoke of strength and dominance. It was untamed, unapologetic, Alpha. And it was driving my omega insane.

Every breath I took was a torment. The scent-blocker was a fragile dam against a tidal wave of longing. My body ached, my skin prickled, a constant, agonizing reminder of what I was, and what I could never have.

My hands trembled as I transcribed a letter, the elegant script blurring before my eyes. I stumbled over a word, the quill scratching harshly against the parchment.

"Are you alright, Kael?" Alaric's voice was sharp with concern.

"Fine, Your Highness," I mumbled, forcing my focus back to the page. "Just a momentary lapse."

He watched me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps you are not yet fully recovered. You should not hesitate to inform me if the workload is too strenuous."

Strenuous? It wasn't the workload that was strenuous, it was the sheer force of his presence, the constant battle against my own treacherous body.

"I am perfectly capable, Your Highness," I insisted, perhaps a little too forcefully.

He raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn't press the issue. He returned to his scrolls, and I forced myself to do the same, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.

The day stretched on, an endless cycle of dictation, transcription, and agonizing self-control. I avoided his gaze, focusing on the mundane tasks, desperate to maintain a semblance of composure. But every brush of his hand as he passed me a document, every chance encounter in the narrow corridors, sent a jolt of electricity through me, weakening my resolve.

During lunch, he offered me a plate of fruit, a gesture I knew was intended as an olive branch. I took it, my fingers brushing against his. The contact was fleeting, almost insignificant, but it sent a wave of heat through me, leaving me breathless.

"Thank you, Your Highness," I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper.

He simply nodded, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. And in that moment, I saw it again, that flicker of something – longing? Regret? – hidden beneath the surface.

Later, as I was organizing his desk, I found a small, intricately carved wooden box. Curiosity overriding my better judgment, I opened it. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a single, perfect white rose.

My breath caught in my throat. White roses were traditionally given as a symbol of purity, of innocence, of… new beginnings.

My omega whimpered, a faint, hopeful sound that I quickly suppressed. It couldn't be. It was just a rose. Perhaps it was meant for a visiting dignitary, or a potential mate.

But the hope, once ignited, was difficult to extinguish. It flickered in the darkness, a fragile flame threatening to consume me.

As I closed the box, Alaric entered the study. He stopped short, his eyes widening as he saw me holding the rose.

"Kael," he said, his voice strained. "What are you doing?"

I stammered, "I… I was just organizing your desk, Your Highness. I didn't mean to pry."

He approached me slowly, his gaze fixed on the box in my hand. The potent aroma of his scent intensified, making me dizzy.

"That rose…" he began, then hesitated. "It's… a reminder."

A reminder? Of what? Of the mate he didn't want? Of the omega he despised?

"I should… get back to work," I mumbled, turning away.

"Kael, wait." He reached out, his hand closing around my wrist.

His touch sent a shockwave through me, shattering the last vestiges of my control. My knees buckled, and I swayed, struggling to stay upright.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"I…" I couldn't speak. My throat was constricted, my lungs burning. The scent-blocker was failing, the pressure building inside me, threatening to erupt.

"Kael, you're pale," he said, his grip tightening on my wrist. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't tell him. I couldn't reveal the truth, not now, not here.

"I… I need some air," I managed to gasp.

He released my wrist, his eyes filled with confusion. "Of course. Go. Take a break."

I stumbled out of the study, desperate to escape the suffocating confines of the palace. I ran blindly through the corridors, ignoring the curious stares of the other servants.

I needed to get away, to breathe, to quiet the screaming omega within me. I needed to escape the scent, the kindness, the impossible hope that was tearing me apart.

I fled into the forest, the cool night air a welcome balm against my burning skin. I leaned against a towering oak, gasping for breath, the scent-blocker burning in my nostrils.

The forest was dark, silent, and unforgiving. But it was also a refuge, a place where I could finally let go, where I could allow myself to feel the pain, the longing, the impossible love that consumed me.

I closed my eyes and let the tears fall, the scent of pine and earth mingling with the faint, lingering aroma of Alaric, a tormenting reminder of the bond that could never be. Just how much wrong did I do in my past life? How much of a sinner was I in my past life? Or is it my parents? Maybe I was supposed to be a punishment to my father… but right now he's not being punished, I was. Should I assume my forefathers commited a grave sin against gods and goddesses—even if that was the case, shouldn't they take a little pity on me.

The truth is Alaric’s scent had triggered what felt like a pre-heat. How cruel is that? If his scent had that much effect on my Omega, I'm definitely done for.