The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Sage

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The scent of healing herbs usually calms me, but today even the familiar routine of sorting leaves and roots can’t quiet my nerves. The servants‘ whispers echo through the healing wing like falling leaves:

“—alliance meeting-” “-King Perseus himself suggested-” “-perfect match, really—‘

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I focus harder on the yarrow leaves in my hands, trying to make myself smaller, invisible. But invisibility is impossible when Eris sweeps through the door with King Perseus himself, her voice carrying with practiced precision.

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“The Northern borders have always been our primary concern,” she’s saying. “My father’s pack has defended that territory for generations.”

“Indeed.” Perseus’s cold approval makes me want to shrink into the shadows. “Your knowledge of pack politics is… refreshing.”

His gaze slides over me like I’m less than nothing. Eris’s smile shows just a hint of fang.

“Oh, Sage dear,” she trills. “Those leaves are for fever reduction. The healing wing really should have someone more… qualified handling such important tasks.”

I want to protest that I know exactly what yarrow is for, that I’ve been helping successfully for weeks. But Perseus’s presence freezes the words in my throat.

The public pack meeting that afternoon is an exercise in elegant cruelty. I stand at the back, watching Eris glide through pack politics like she was born to it. In many ways, she was.

“The alliance between Silver Crown and Northern Pack would create an unprecedented power base,” Perseus announces. “Proper matches between strong bloodlines ensure pack survival.”

Alaric sits rigid on his throne, power rolling off him in controlled waves. When Eris takes her place at his right hand – the traditional spot for a potential Luna – his expression could be carved from stone.

The formal dinner is worse. I’m relegated to a lower table while Eris holds court beside Alaric. Her silver gown catches every light, her laugh musical and practiced. She was raised for this role, every movement calculated to showcase her worthiness as a future Luna.

Queen Helena tries to draw me into conversation, but Perseus smoothly interrupts.

“My dear,” he says to his mate, “perhaps Lady Eris would appreciate your insights about pack leadership.” Moments later, Eris “accidentally” knocks over a wine glass. The red liquid spreads across my borrowed dress like a wound.

“Oh, how clumsy of me,” she simpers. “But really, dear, you should be more careful around fine things. They’re so easily… stained.”

Alaric’s hands tighten on his chair arms, but pack politics hold him in place more surely than chains. I flee to the gardens, burning with humiliation.

“The pack needs strength now,” Perseus’s voice drifts from a nearby path. I freeze behind a rose bush, trapped. ” Alaric’s recent softness must be corrected.”

“I understand completely,” Eris responds. “The pack’s welfare must come first. These charitable projects, while

Chapter 29

admirable, can be… distracting.”

Later, she finds me still hiding among the roses.

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“It really is for the best, dear,” she says, patting my hand. “You must see that. This world… it’s not meant for strays and lost causes. Better to accept that now than be hurt later.”

The next morning on the training field, she takes charge of female training with Perseus’s blessing.

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“Proper form is essential,” she calls out, demonstrating a defensive move with fluid grace. “Though some of us” -her eyes find me- “may never achieve true mastery without certain… natural advantages.”

Other wolves follow her lead, drawing away when I approach. Whispers follow me like shadows:

“-can’t even shift–““–embarrassing really-” “-Alpha’s charity case-”

I watch my tentative place in the pack crumble like autumn leaves. Even Iris seems unable to intervene, caught between loyalty to family politics and our fragile friendship.

The final blow comes at sunset. The pack gathers again as Perseus announces formal alliance negotiations. Eris stands tall and proud beside Alaric, every inch a future queen. Her smile could cut diamonds.

When Alaric’s gaze finds mine across the great hall, there’s something like an apology in his steel–gray eyes. But he’s a king before he’s anything else. I understand that now.

After the announcement, wolves cluster in celebratory groups, sharing wine and speculation about the alliance. I slip through the crowd like a ghost, neither wolf nor noble enough to join their excitement.

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