(☆)
The medical report sitting on Arion's desk was a headache in physical form. According to the Academy's head doctors, Aiden's first heat hadn't just been a biological event. it had been a "territorial reconstruction." By exerting such an extreme level of enigma dominance while trapped in a small room with another young Alpha, Aiden had literally crushed Asher's internal hormonal balance.
"You're telling me my son accidentally turned his rival into an Omega?" Arion asked, rubbing his temples.
Kyon sat across from him, leaning back with a glass of wine, looking entirely too amused. "Not exactly, Arion. He didn't 'turn' him. He suppressed him so thoroughly that Asher's body is recalibrating to survive in the presence of a superior predator. It's rare, but it happens in the oldest bloodlines."
Arion looked genuinely worried. "I'm scared of his pheromones, Kyon. He's twelve. If he's already doing this to other Alphas without even trying, what happens when he's sixteen? He'll be a walking disaster."
Kyon let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Oh, stop being so dramatic. I have the same trait, and the world hasn't ended. Besides..." Kyon started laughing harder, nearly spilling his wine. "Every time I think about him crying because he thought he was 'leaking his soul' when he just needed a release... it's the funniest thing I've ever heard. Our 'mighty heir' was praying for his soul to go to heaven because of a standard heat."
"It wasn't funny to him!" Arion snapped, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at his own lips.
For a week, Asher vanished. He skipped tactical drills, missed mess hall, and stayed far away from any hallway where he might catch a whiff of Aiden's cedar and pine scent.
Aiden, now recovered but still mortified, couldn't let it go. He felt a weird tug in his gut—a sense that he had broken something he wasn't supposed to touch. He tracked Asher down to his private dorm room at the end of the hall.
When Aiden pushed the door open, he didn't find the cocky, aggressive Asher he knew. Asher was sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes rimmed with red and his face flushed a feverish pink. He looked like he had been fighting a war with his own skin.
"Asher?" Aiden asked, stepping inside. "The instructors said you're sick. Is it because of the other night? I... I told you I was sorry about the snoring."
Asher jumped as if he'd been burned. He stood up, wiping his eyes quickly and pulling his jacket collar high to hide his neck. He tried to put on his usual smirk, but it looked shaky.
"I'm fine,Aiden. Get out," Asher snapped, his voice cracking. He tried to brush past Aiden to get to the door. "I have things to do. I don't have time for the 'Prince of Puddles'."
Asher tried to walk past, but Aiden's instincts were still on high alert. Without thinking, Aiden reached out and grabbed Asher's wrist.
"Stay."
The word didn't just come from Aiden's mouth, it came from his core. It was a command.
Asher stopped dead in his tracks. His legs felt like they were turning to jelly. He hated it. He hated how his body wanted to listen to Aiden.
"Explain what happened," Aiden demanded, his grip firm. "Your scent is... it's changing. It's weird. Is it my fault?"
Asher yanked his arm, trying to play strong. "It has nothing to do with you! I just have a fever. Stop acting like you're the center of the world just because you had a loud heat. Let go of me!"
Neither of the boys noticed the small, mechanical clicking sound from the shadows of the hallway.
Tucked behind a decorative suit of armor was an agent—a man on Queen's payroll. He held a high-powered long-distance camera. He captured everything: Aiden's dominant grip on Asher's wrist, the way Asher looked flushed and submissive, and the intimate, heated tension between the two rivals.
The agent smirked. These pictures, sent back to the South, would be the perfect weapon. They wouldn't just show Lorcan that Aiden was moving on, they would show him that Aiden was already claiming others. It would be the final blow to break Lorcan's hope.
•••
Over the next three days, the Academy became a powder keg.
Asher's body was in total chaos. One hour he would feel like an Alpha, his temper exploding at the slightest provocation. The next, he would feel a wave of Omega like vulnerability that made him want to hide in a dark corner.
To overcompensate for his weakness, Asher became even harsher toward Aiden. He started three fights in the cafeteria. He tripped Aiden during morning runs. He insulted Aiden's parents, his hair, and his combat style.
"You're a freak, Aiden!" Asher yelled during a sparring session, swinging a wooden sword with enough force to bruise. "You think you can just command people because of your blood? You're nothing but a spoiled brat!"
Aiden, frustrated by the mixed signals and the constant attacks, fought back just as hard. They became a blur of flying fists and snarling insults. Sometimes they would brawl until they both bled, and then Asher would suddenly turn and run away, disappearing into the woods behind the Academy with Aiden hot on his heels, screaming for him to "come back and finish the fight."
It was a toxic, confusing cycle. They were hurting each other because they didn't know how to handle the fact that their biology had been permanently tangled.
Back at the palace, Arion watched a report of the latest brawl between the two boys.
"He's scaring me, Kyon," Arion repeated. "He's chasing that boy around like a predator. He's obsessed with hunting."
Kyon just laughed, leaning over to look at the report. "He's twelve, Arion. He's an Alpha who accidentally claimed a subordinate. He doesn't know if he wants to kill him or protect him. It's perfectly normal."
"Normal!?" Arion repeated stunned.
Kyon chuckled, tapping a finger on a drawing of Aiden's scowling face. "At least he's stopped praying to go to heaven. That was his peak performance. I'm going to tell that story at his wedding. I'm going to tell it to his children."
"You are a terrible father," Arion groaned.
"And you are a worried one," Kyon countered. "Let them fight. Let them grow. The boy is a Blackwood. He'll figure it out eventually."
But as the two fathers talked, a messenger was already boarding a ship headed South, carrying a packet of photos that would change everything for a boy waiting in a High Tower.