Chapter 49
Arwena’s scent thickened in the air — heavy and floral, like overripe blooms. Her pheromones drifted gently, languidly, before she suddenly spoke.
“Your Highness, as I mentioned before, wouldn’t it be better to be rid of that woman? I fear she may tarnish your reputation.”
Her tone was swift and tinged with barely contained indignation. Russell, watching the maids silently retreat with the tea set, twisted his lips into a wry smile.
Yes, she had finally drunk it.
The tea had been laced with a subtle compound — harmless but potent for a shifter. It dulled inhibition, stoked emotional agitation, and opened the tongue. A mild truth-serum, essentially. And he had allowed her to grow complacent these past few days by smiling, humoring, and disarming her with his attentions.
Now, it was time.
Softening his voice with deliberate gentleness, he asked:
“And which woman do you mean?”
“That vulgar courtesan, of course. There’s no reason for someone like her to remain at your side.”
Russell held back a sigh and smiled instead. Arwena, mistaking his patience for delight, beamed in return and finally began to blurt out her own raw insight.
“If it’s about pheromone compatibility, I could introduce you to a number of other Omegas. Far more suitable ones. In fact, Your Highness may not know this, but I’m quite skilled with formulating d***s…”
A flash of red flickered in her eyes, not unlike the embers of obsession.
“There are only so many Omegas who can bear the seed of an ultra-dominant Alpha, I know. But House Dietrich has spent generations researching Omega pheromones. If Your Highness desires, I could offer everything — every formula, every subject.”
Russell kept his voice mild.
“I hadn’t realized you took such an interest in these matters.”
D***s. Experiments. Pheromonal modulation. This was how she had concealed her status as a recessive Omega it seemed, struggling and clawing to overcome the inferiority she so deeply loathed.
That, too, would require investigation.
D***s…
The word echoed.
Russell’s gaze hardened.
Ten years ago, that incident. Every witness had described the same thing — a red-haired girl, small in stature, delivering the poison.
The runaway maid’s daughter, said the gatekeeper, had been caught slipping through the estate in a carriage that day.
They had said she was returned to her father.
But what if there had been two girls in the castle that day?
“The Lady, before your secondary manifestation, you were quite small, weren’t you?”
“Fufu, yes. That’s why Father worried about me so much.”
That’s right. She had been a very, very small girl. Small enough to seem four or five years younger than her age. And that same girl would sometimes cast eerie, chilling looks at his fiancée.
Even that helpless jealousy, it seemed, the Duke had merely dismissed with indulgent affection for his daughter.
“Your Highness may not realize it, but I know far more about you than you think. Fufu… I even know why you sought out that wench.”
“….”
He stared quietly at her pale face, as if trying to read something in it. Then he tilted his head slightly and smiled — an empty expression that might’ve looked affectionate to an outsider.
“What do you mean by that, Lady Dietrich?”
“That wench… is your enemy, is she not?”
Russell’s gaze darkened, sinking deep.
Alpha pheromones stirred sharply, and his smile twisted — no longer polite, but ominous.
Marie Alphrose had fled and changed her name. That meant her former name wasn’t Alphrose. So how did this woman know to call her an enemy?
Unless she knew exactly what had happened back then.
“I see…”
He leaned just a little closer toward her.
“But how would you know that, Lady Dietrich?”
“Why, because I’m always watching you, Your Highness.”
Arwena was a madwoman. Now he was certain of that. He curled his lips in revulsion, ready to cast off the cloying Omega pheromones clinging to him like a suffocating net.
Then, at that very moment, a breeze blew in. And with it, a familiar scent brushed past the tip of Russell’s nose. The nausea that had been clawing up his throat settled in an instant, as if it had never been.
‘This scent.’
Marie.
It was Marie’s pheromones.
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