Kaelen's POV.
"One... two... three..."
I counted the number of each plunge of the blade into my skin. My vision blurred as the toxin started taking effect in my body
I couldn't shift. My wolf, the pride of the Black Ridge, was a caged, whimpering thing behind the paralysis of the poison.
"Thirty-one," my brother, Valerius, whispered. He leaned in close, his breath smelling of the wine we had shared only an hour ago.
"You were too strong, Kaelen. A king who leaves no room for others to breathe eventually suffocates in his own blood."
He drove the final dagger into my chest.
Thirty-two.
One for every year I had reigned in terror.
I didn't scream.
I didn't have the lungs for it. I simply watched, my soul hovering at the edge of the abyss, as my own generals, men I had led through a dozen wars, stepped forward.
I cursed them with my final thought. Not even the gates of hell will hold me.
––
"Prince Linus? Prince Linus, wake up. You can't hide in bed forever. The carriage leaves at dawn."
The voice was shrill, grating against my ears. I gasped, my heart beating rapidly like I had just ran a marathon. I reached for my chest, expecting to feel the mangled remains of my ribcage and thirty-two holes.
Instead, my hands met soft, unblemished skin. My fingers were thin like a girl's.
I bolted upright, my head spinning. The room smelled…..sweet, a stench that made my stomach churn.
This wasn't the stone fortress of the Black Ridge. There were silk gold drapes, marble floors, and a bed that looked like a pile of clouds.
"Where am I?" I rasped. My voice sounded different. It was high, melodic, and lacked the usual gravelly bass.
A maid stood by the window, pulling back the curtains. She didn't even look at me, bow or acknowledge my presence with anything other than a performative sigh.
"In your chambers, Your Highness," she said. "Where else would you be? You've been asleep for two days. The King says if you aren't ready by tomorrow, the guards will drag you to the border in your nightshirt."
I ignored her, my heart hammering against a ribcage. I stumbled out of the bed. My legs were weak, my balance off. I nearly fell, catching myself on the bedside.
I looked into the mirror and let out a sound that was half-growl, half-sob.
The face staring back was...beautiful.
That was the problem.
Pale skin, wide, doe-like eyes, and a neck so thin I could probably snap it with one hand. There were no scars, absolutely nothing but fresh, and untouched skin. I reached up and felt the back of my neck.
A scent gland.
I wasn't just in a different body.
I was an Omega.
"What is the year?" I demanded, turning toward the maid.
She finally looked at me, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "The year? It's 1304. Are you still lightheaded from the... well, from your 'illness'?"
One hundred years.
I had been dead for a century.
The Black Ridge Pack was likely a footnote in a history book, and I was trapped in the body of a boy who looked like he'd collapse if the wind blew too hard.
"Leave," I said.
"Pardon?"
"I said get out," I growled.
The maid flinched, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second before her expression shifted back to a sneer.
"Fine. Starve for all I care. Master Silas will be here soon to check on you anyway. He's the only one who can stand your whining."
She slammed the door behind her.
I sank to the floor, my mind racing. From the memories fragmenting in my brain of the boy who lived here before me.
This was Linus. The third prince of the Blue Moon Kingdom. He was a 'useless' royal, a frail Omega in a kingdom that used them as currency and he had been sold.
The Blue Moon Kingdom was losing a war against the Iron Fang Empire, and Linus was the peace offering. A concubine for an Emperor named Fenrir.
The original Linus hadn't been able to take it. He had swallowed a vial of poison two nights ago. He had died in this bed, terrified and alone, and my soul had crawled into the empty vessel.
"You coward," I whispered to the empty room. "You gave up. I would never give up."
I felt a dull ache in my stomach, the lingering residue of the poison.
I forced myself to stand. My body was a joke, but my mind was still the mind of the man who had conquered the Northern Wastes, rigged.
The door opened again.
This time, no one knocked.
I guess manners got lost in time as well.
A young man entered. He was an Omega as well. This was Silas. In Linus's memories, Silas was his only friend. His confidant.
"Linus! Oh, thank the heavens you're awake," Silas said, rushing toward me with his hands outstretched. He didn't touch me, though. He stopped just short, his eyes scanning my face. "I've been worried sick. The servants said you wouldn't wake up."
"I'm sure you were devastated," I said, my voice flat.
Silas paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Of course I was. But Linus, you must listen to me. I spoke to your father. There is no way out of the marriage contract. You have to go tomorrow."
"To become a concubine for a 'monster'?" I asked.
Silas sighed, putting on a mask of sympathy. "Fenrir is... difficult. They say he kills his mates when he grows bored. But Linus, think of the kingdom! Dying for your people is a noble sacrifice. It's better than living a life of shame here, isn't it?"
I looked at him. Truly looked at him. I saw the way his eyes darted to the vanity, checking for the empty poison vial. He didn't want me to survive. He was the one who had given Linus the poison. He had whispered in the boy's ear, convinced him that suicide was his only escape, all so he could step into his position.
If the prince died, the marriage contract would still need to be fulfilled. And Silas, the 'loyal friend,' would be the next logical choice for the King to send in his place.
"You want me dead," I said. It wasn't a question.
Silas laughed, a high, nervous sound. "Linus, you're talking nonsense. The stress has gotten to you. Come, sit down. Let me call the doctor—"
He reached for my arm.
I shoved his arm away and pressed his chest with mine backing him into the stone pillar of the bedframe.
Before he could scream, I had my hand around his jaw, my fingers digging into his cheeks.
"Listen to me, you little snake," I hissed.
Silas's eyes went wide. He tried to pull away, but I leaned my weight into him, squeezing until his face began to turn a mottled shade of blue.
"I don't know what game you were playing with the boy who lived in this body," I said, my voice dropping to a predatory whisper. "But that boy is gone. I am what's left. And I can smell the treason on your skin."
"L-Linus..." he gasped, his hands clawing at my wrists.
"Don't use that name. And stop acting like a loyal friend. It makes me sick." I squeezed harder, feeling the bone of his jaw creak under my grip. "You want the Emperor? You want the throne of the Iron Fang? You're welcome to try. But if you ever enter my room without permission again, I won't just bruise you. I'll rip your tongue out and feed it to the hounds."
I threw him toward the door. Silas stumbled, falling hard onto the marble. He looked up at me, his mask completely shattered.
Pure, unadulterated terror replaced the fake sympathy. He scrambled to his feet and bolted out of the room.
I stood in the center of the room, my chest heaving. My hands were shaking, not from fear, but from the sheer effort of exerting that much will through such a pathetic frame.
I walked back to the mirror. I looked at the pale boy with the wide eyes.
"They think they're selling a lamb," I told my reflection.
I picked up a silk scarf and tied it tightly around my neck, covering the scent gland.
I needed a blade, a plan, and the iron will to turn this kingdom of sheep into a slaughterhouse.
"Let them bring their Emperor," I whispered. "I've died once already. I have nothing left to lose, and an entire world to take back."