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Sweat slicked his skin as he stood outside the main feasting tent. Heat still plumed from the sand despite dusk falling, making his commanders appear hazy.

He was tired of this battlefield. Tired of the relentless wind spitting sand like shards of glass. Tired of this bleak, monotone brown landscape. The Sardi were so proud of Sarda City, describing it as the epicenter of the best Anatolia could offer. All he saw was a desiccated, beige city that looked like it had leached all that was green and alive to feed its towering walls, leaving only dust behind.

Xander, his second in command, moved to his side, scratching the large scar along the side of his face. He whispered, “Ever since you issued the order to go find the Sardi princess, the men have been restless.”

Lodan nodded. He knew. He and his commanders had battled together for so long, his warriors were like an extension of himself. None would openly ask him about his decision, but they’d wonder why a Sardi princess mattered so much they’d delayed their pursuit of the Sardi king for her. These were the Myrdinians who’d marched beside him from the beginning. They deserved to know that this Omega was part of the plan.

Lodan stepped into the center and pivoted slowly, locking gazes with his commanders one by one. “What did we all vow when we boarded our ships and came here?”

Silence filled the beach, and the men shifted, looking at each other. Finally, Thoas called out, “Defeat the Sardi. Eliminate the Blood Laws. Loyalty to you and to those we vow to protect.”

Lodan nodded. Normally, he never explained his actions, but in this case, they needed to understand. “The Sardi Princess is a wrinkle we didn’t expect. But this will work in our favor.”

Until the moment they found her letters, they hadn’t a clue a princess existed. Over the four days it took to fetch her from the temple, he and Xander had debated what to do about her. In the end, while Xander didn’t agree with Lodan’s plan, they both agreed she needed to be dealt with.

“This Omega is no prize of war for my pleasure. She is a tool to use as I see fit. With her under my rule, it shows the Sardi are not the elite. They aren’t special. She will be a symbol the Blood Laws are gone forever. And the Sardi will never try to put her on the throne. She will be dead to them.”

His men nodded.

“I vow the Sardi will be no more.” He closed his fist and pounded once on his chest.

He’d made this vow for the first time when he was fifteen, standing in the middle of his destroyed village. In the years since, others had joined him, and so, the rebellion grew. First, it was a small spark, then it became a seething fire. For too long the Sardi had strangled the people of these lands and prevented them from living in freedom.

“We will show the Sardi stranglehold over Anatolia is gone. No longer will they treat us like cattle, penning us into pastures and yoking us for the tasks they demand. Picking our mates like they’re breeding us.” He put his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Slaughtering us when we don’t obey.”

His men shouted again.

“The Blood Laws are the heart of Sardi control. They claim superiority simply because of their blood. They use these laws to hold power over us. They’ve made us fear them. Fear death if we don’t comply.” Rage swept through him, and he no longer saw the wasted land but his village before it was destroyed. “No more will we hide when the Sardi come to the village, poking around for unapproved matches. No longer will we hide our Omegas to prevent Sardi Alphas from taking them as mistresses.”

His hand fisted around the pommel. “Sarda City has fallen to Myrdinian swords. They’ve fallen to a race they believed to be the lowest of all. The race they told could never do anything but farm.” A ghost of a smile twitched his lips. “I think we’ve proven we can do far more than that.”

His men pounded their own chests and shouted a war cry.

He jerked his chin toward the mess tent. “Let’s feast.”

With another battle cry, his commanders turned towards the food.

Raucous shouts filled the space as the men settled at tables centered around a large fire, where the camp cook bent over a haunch of Sardi hog.

He settled into his seat, Xander sitting to his right. The cook’s assistant brought them large goblets of wine, his hand shaking as he gave Lodan a short bow, sloshing the wine everywhere before plunking the glasses on the table and dashing away.

He returned with plates of food, and Lodan gave him a nod. The lad bobbled and almost fell over, his face turning white.

Lodan ignored the wine and bit into a piece of meat. “Where did your scouts track the king?” he asked Xander.

“The king fled north toward Argos. And the Dorian lands.”

“Do you think he’ll ask the Dorians for aid?” This would flesh out where the Dorians’ loyalty lay. Reclusive, the Dorians preferred to remain in their villages clawed into the spines of the icy mountains. No one knew how many Dorians there were. If they entered the war and sided with the king, it might give the Sardi a huge army.

“I think he’ll ask the Argosians for aid. The Dorians,” —Xander shrugged— “no one has ever had much luck with them.” Not many braved the narrow mountain passes to seek them out, and even fewer returned.

Lodan stared into the red wine in his goblet, and his lips curled a fraction. “The king is desperate.”

Anatolia may lie at his feet, but his vengeance wouldn’t rest until King Harl lay dead. That was the second vow he’d made when he was fifteen, the one he’d never spoken aloud to another.

Lodan swallowed another bite of food. “Break camp in the morning. We go after the king.”

“What do you want us to do with Sarda City?”

He took a long moment and considered it. “Leave a small group behind. Have them get the Sardi prisoners working on repairing the city.”

“And what about your Sardi prisoner?” Xander frowned and stabbed the knife he used to cut his meat into the table. “The Sardi will lick their wounds, but then they’ll look for ways to defeat us again. Until she has your child, they could try to put her on the throne as queen. It isn’t safe to leave her here, and it isn’t safe to bring her with us. You should eliminate her.”

Xander believed ending the line of succession was the only way to truly stamp out Sardi rule.

Lodan had killed many, but that was in battle. He drew the line at murder, even if she was related to the king.

“I’ll make sure they’ll never want her as their queen. While we pursue the king, we will stop at towns for supplies. I’ll display her at my side to every village. Every city. It will be clear she lies with me, and the Sardi will spurn her.” He sneered. “They will turn on their last hope for continued Sardi rule because of their damn Blood Laws. Pregnant or not, they will never accept her if they think I touched her.”

Xander remained still, staring at him. “She’s an Omega, and you’re an Alpha. I saw how you looked at her.”

Lodan frowned. Emptiness was all he’d felt for so long. Emptiness and anger. So, when fierce possessiveness swept through him at first sight of her, it was foreign. Disturbing.

He’d shoved it away as quickly as it had come, but apparently not quick enough. “She’s a Sardi.” Out of all the warriors at his side, Xander knew exactly how much Lodan hated the Sardi. The familiar punch of his anger surged through him. “I’ll never forget who she really is.” He spoke quietly, but men near him reacted to the scent of aggression spiking the air and turned toward him, their smiles slipping.

He waved his hand, and they returned to their food.

Xander leaned closer and gave one of his rare smiles. “You should toss her into the ocean, but I look forward to seeing a Sardi serve you.”

They had almost finished their plates when an old, whip-thin Beta female flounced into the empty chair at Lodan’s left, her silver hair pulled severely back from her brow into a knot at the back of her head. She grabbed his wine and took a long swig. “I did the chore for you.” She scowled. “That’s the last time I’m an Omega babysitter, though. I have better things to do.”

He sighed. Greta, his healer, traveled with him during all his campaigns. Even if her skill had saved many of his warriors, he didn’t enjoy sitting next to her at the table. “Good.” If he was rude enough, she’d go away.

She settled deeper into her chair as if intending to stay awhile. He sighed again.

“I bathed her and dressed her in old trousers and a shirt like you ordered.”

“Good,” he said again. Sardi women only wore draped dresses, and the men wore special tunics. They considered trousers worn by Myrdinians to be only fit for savages. Let her feel like a savage, too.

“It took me a long time to wash and fix her hair.” She eyed him. “That was incredibly troublesome, and I think you owe me something.”

He raised an eyebrow a fraction.

Greta waved her hand dismissively. “Well, we can talk about that later. Overall, she’s banged up but nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days with my salve.”

“Did she mention her feet were bothering her?” He’d seen her limping and how she tried to hide it.

Greta’s brows shot up. “She didn’t speak to me much. I don’t think she liked the fact I told her to strip down in front of me, but eventually she caved and got in the tub. But yes, I noticed her feet are bad. She has one gash already festering but I treated it. It should be all right.”

Xander grunted. “It’ll keep her from trying to run, anyway.”

Greta cackled. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

The image of the Omega in his tent, with her tangled mat of golden hair and overly large blue eyes, flashed before him. When he’d threatened her about what he’d do if she tried to escape, her eyes had narrowed in defiance. She’d try to run the second she was able.

She wouldn’t succeed.

By the time he got her pregnant, she’d be obedient. No more spouting prophecies at him and scolding him about bloodlust.

He knew the prophecy well, and he’d accepted long ago he’d die freeing Anatolia. Nothing mattered but killing the king. He would fully destroy the Sardi and give Anatolia back to its people. Happiness, a mate, and a long life weren’t what he wanted. He would die to free Anatolia. He would die for his vengeance.

Greta leaned forward. “I want a word with you.” She jerked her chin towards the door. “In private.”

“Let’s walk.” Pushing back from the table, he left the feast, the Beta healer scurrying beside him, taking two steps to match one of his own.

Wind slapped him in the face outside the meal tent, pelting tiny beads of salt mist from off the ocean. Whitecaps whipped up to the shore. A storm was rolling in.

A group of Omegas from the neighboring town of Tyrrhusca headed toward the feasting warriors, the females in flowing dresses displaying full breasts and lush hips. One male Omega brought up the rear, his arms slung around two females. A two-inch streak of dyed hair blazed brightly along the left temple of each Omega. Each color indicated what that Omega would allow or perform with an Alpha.

Having learned his warriors had a kinder approach to relationships with Omegas than the Sardi, the denizens of the night from a nearby brothel visited regularly since the fall of Sarda City.

An oval-faced Omega with light eyes and full, plump lips, halted when she caught sight of him. She swallowed and smiled tentatively, half in fear, half invitation. Her beauty was apparent even in the clouded moonlight. Gorgeous golden skin begging for an Alpha to explore. Lips made to suck. The scent of her arousal swirled on the breeze.

Nothing stirred inside him. He shook his head. “Not tonight.”

A look of relief? Disappointment? She ducked her head, and the Omegas moved to the tent, where a loud roar welcomed them.

Greta, hands on hips, stared up at him. “How long has it been since you let an Omega handle your sword? The sap should be flowing to continue your conquering after a battle.”

This was why he avoided talking to Greta. “Your tongue flaps more than it should. Perhaps you can perform your healing without it?”

She rolled her eyes. “We both know you don’t hurt females. Besides, someone must tell you the truth instead of what you want to hear.”

“What do you need to talk to me about? I have things to attend to.”

The slight smile on her face faded. “I’m with you because I believe in what you say. And what you say is that no one will force any more bloodlines. So tell me, do your rules apply to you?”

He halted, his eyes narrowing to slits. “What are you talking about?”

“You know I’m no fan of the Sardi, but you’re forcing yourself on that Omega, and when you saved me, you said you would make sure things like that never happened again.”

He rocked back on his heels and scrubbed his mouth with his hand. “I don’t force myself on females. She’s an Omega and I’m an Alpha. She’ll respond to me the way Omegas do. Especially when she goes into heat.”

“Hmm.”

Having a Sardi begging him to bed her would mean he’d won in more ways than on the battlefield. “I know what I’m doing.”

Greta laughed. “Oh really? You know what you’re doing? What you know about Omegas could fit on the point of a needle. You’ll need to spend a lot of time with her. Make her crave you. Do you really want to spend time with a Sardi?”

He didn’t like the way Greta peered up at him, and why was he even explaining himself to Greta? He didn’t owe anyone any explanation.

Except the old Beta was right. He’d sworn an oath to her, to everyone who fought with him, that he’d change things. That anyone who joined his banner had his protection. “If that is what I need to do, I’ll do it.”

The waves pounded the shore like they were gulping at it as Lodan and the healer walked in silence.

“The Omega said she doesn’t go into heat. Could that be true? She smelled like a normal Omega to me.” Smelled much better than any Omega he’d ever met. Even after days of walking in the dust, her skin held the intoxicating scent of orange blossoms. He’d wanted to pull her to him, yet push her far, far away.

He growled. She was a Sardi. It was all deception and illusion. Like the flowers in the south that mimicked a rose with their scent but, if touched, caused an instant, agonizing death.

Greta paused. “You’re sure you got the right Omega?”

“Of course. We intercepted a letter from a servant to the princess and it showed where she was being hidden. And she has the hair.” The royal line all had hair like cornsilk, so blond it was almost white. “Why?”

“Some races, like the Dorians, only go into heat after they find their bondmate. They can’t have children with someone who isn’t their bondmate.”

He snorted. “She’s a Sardi, and we know the Sardi don’t believe in bondmates. They breed all of us like cattle, even themselves. Their marriages create dynasties and more Sardi. None of them are bondmates, and they have plenty of children. So that can’t be it.”

“That’s true.” Greta paused and pulled on her earlobe. “She’s old enough, but maybe she’s delayed for some reason.” She quirked a brow. “But you know all about Omegas, right? You’ll figure it out.”

“You’re dismissed.”

She huffed but listened for once and left. This wrinkle inconvenienced him. Greta was right, he’d have to spend a lot of time with the Sardi princess, which was the last thing he wanted to do. Especially when every time he looked at her, something strange tugged in his chest.

Turning, he walked down the beach to consider how best to proceed.