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The open-topped wagon lurched forward, and Kassandra almost fell off the crate she perched on. The warriors were efficient. They’d taken down camp, including the Warlord’s tent, right before dawn, and now, as a murky light rose above the horizon, they were leaving. The light couldn’t push away the gloom of the continuing rain lying heavy over the beach like a dark, wet blanket. This might be the last time she ever saw her home, and the gray mist and scarred landscape seemed like a fitting match to her mood.

She shivered.

Rain lashed sideways, finding openings in the oiled cloak wrapped around her, and she turned back into the cart. Two other Omegas, a male and a female, were with her, sitting on a heap of linens together. They leaned against each other and smiled. Were they prisoners too?

As the other Omegas arranged a waxed canvas over their heads to keep out the rain, she noticed both had chunks of hair missing at the left temple. Maybe it was some new style. They cocooned themselves in the rain protection, their faces close together as they whispered. She recognized the slight accent of the Tyrrhuscans, the group of people west of Sarda City.

Kassandra looked away.

The intimacy of friends, or siblings, sitting that close to share cover … she drooped further. If her brother was here, he’d sit and arrange his own comfort with no care for hers. And he wouldn’t want her sitting so close to him.

If her brother knew about what happened last night, he’d never let her near him again. Not that he had ever wanted her nearby before. When her father died mere months after she’d moved into the temple, her brother hadn’t allowed her to return for his coronation. While they’d never been close—he was ten years her senior, and his mother was from their father’s first marriage—she still should have been there. Her brother was the tenth generation of the House of Podarce to take the throne of Anatolia. They were the house who’d united Anatolia, discovered the bloodlines, and set the Blood Laws. They were the reason the realm prospered. She should have been there to help celebrate his new reign.

Then again, her brother hadn’t considered her his real sister. He always told her his mother was the true queen, and hers was simply someone who’d bewitched her father in his later years when he was a lonely widow. Considering she’d never gotten the chance to meet her mother, who’d died in childbirth, Kassandra never had anything to say in return.

If he knew about her sitting on the Warlord’s lap and her reaction to him, he’d make sure she was shunned forever.

She needed to forget that ever happened. Focus on escape, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the Warlord touching her.

His hands had roamed her body and caressed her in intimate places, and she’d melted against him, barely protesting. How could she have let that happen? Those hands had the blood of her people on them, yet the moment they slid against her skin, everything else faded away. He wasn’t the Warlord destroying her people anymore, he’d become an Alpha.

Never her Alpha, though, no matter what he said.

Needing to think about something else, she peered past the slats in the sides of the wagon to see the horses. Definitely Sardi bred.

All Sardi horses stood at least seventeen hands high, meaning if a large Alpha used his hands to measure how tall the horse stood from its hoof to its withers—the highest point of its shoulder—it would take seventeen of them. That was why their horses were famous. Alphas, with their bulk, couldn’t sit on small horses, and workhorses, while large, weren’t nimble enough for travel or battle.

A coal-black stallion with four white socks was tethered to the back of a nearby caravan, his back laden with packages. His ears were flat against his head. Possibly, he hated the rain, or more likely, his treatment as a common mule.

She knew that stallion.

All royal horses were black, and those born with four white legs, like socks or stockings, were highly prized. Her father kept those for himself because the white legs contrasted with the black and made for an arresting sight when the horse was in motion. The year Kassandra had been sent away, a foal with four white socks had been born. Unless another had been born in the past few years, it had to be the same foal she’d named Drinker of the Wind, or Zephyr, for short.

It was difficult to tame a Sardi mount. They either allowed you to ride them, or they didn’t. And some of them, usually stallions, chose one person, the only person they allowed on their back. Ever. If their owner died, they went feral.

These barbarians had Zephyr carrying packages.

She grimaced and shook her head. As she scanned the procession of warriors, carts, and caravans near her, she saw that not one Sardi horse was being ridden; they only transported goods. What a waste.

She had to avoid the horses. Let the Sardi think she couldn’t ride, then if she escaped—no, when she escaped—she could steal a horse, and they wouldn’t expect it.

Another wave of misery rolled over her. How was she going to get out of here? The Warlord was right, guards watched her every move. While she may no longer have bindings around her hands, she remained tied in place.

She turned to view the wall of her old city one last time as they threaded up the beach. Its golden bricks gleamed once before the gray fog swallowed it.

“Are you joining the Myrdinians, too?” The male Omega’s voice rose over the clatter of the wheels. “I’m Cian and this is Briseis.”

She turned to find the male and female Omega staring at her. “I’m Kassandra, and … I guess you could say that.” No need to point out she was a prisoner right away.

“Anything to get away from the Sardi, right?” Cian smiled. He was fair-haired and lean with broad shoulders. It was a face her painting teacher would have wanted to paint. While his smooth skin spoke of youth, there was a weariness in his dark gaze, as if he’d seen what the world offered and already tired of it. It made him arresting—almost startling.

“Oh.” They were desperate to get away from the Sardi?

Briseis, however, did not have a weary gaze. She tossed her coppery hair, and her lips, shiny and pink even without the enhancement of beetroot, pursed. “I’m going to settle down with one Alpha right away. No more Blood Laws telling me I’m not the bonding kind.”

Cian laughed. “We both know which Alpha you want, and you need to move on. Mostly because he’s scary, but even worse, he turned you down last night when you looked almost beautiful. Now, you’re a fright, and your hair is a wet mop. You don’t have a chance.”

Briseis squealed with mock outrage and slapped Cian’s arm. “I’m always gorgeous.”

“Your ego knows no limits.” He smiled again at Kassandra. “It’s my duty to bring her back to earth. She needs many improvements, and it’s my lot in life to point them out to her. Especially if she wants to catch a decent Alpha.”

Briseis snorted. A rather loud honk from such a delicate face. “Well, you aren’t doing much better wooing the one you want.”

Cian sighed and fell against the wall behind him. “He’s not interested, that’s why. I was wrong about there being a connection. But also, unlike you, my life goal isn’t to tie myself to some Alpha.”

“Can you say you were wrong again? Much louder this time so I can fix it in my memory forever?” Briseis tickled Cian along his rib cage, and the male Omega keeled over, kicking at her.

When their play subsided, Cian’s smile vanished, and he turned and stared out into the rain. “Wherever we end up, when and if I choose, I will find an Alpha who knows nothing about me or my past.” His voice broke slightly. “That’s why I’m not interested in any of the men here in camp. They know what I am.”

“What you were .” Briseis rubbed the place on his left temple where the hair was missing. “The Myrdinians are aware it wasn’t a life you chose.”

Kassandra glanced at the shorn hair again and realized who they were.

They were Omegas of the night—prostitutes—who’d removed the dye marking them.

Prostitutes came discreetly for guests at the palace. It was something her father tried to shield her from, but the Betas who cleaned her room spoke about it freely. She’d only seen them from a distance but remembered the bright colors in their hair at the left temple.

Cian waved Briseis off. “Pah. That doesn’t matter. Besides, Xander never spoke to me much.”

“Maybe, but he never took his eyes off you. And no one paid for your companionship. I bet he blocked your admirers from doing anything with you.”

“Now that, Briseis, is a bet you’d lose.” He bumped her with his shoulder. “But I appreciate you trying to cheer me up. And I made a bit of coin, anyway. Quite a few drachmas, actually.” He raised an eyebrow at Kassandra, then glanced at the guards riding on either side of the wagon. Leaning forward, he whispered, “I pretended I’d never played petteia before and then trounced them. They only ever want to arm wrestle, box, or play petteia, and heavens know I can’t beat them in a physical game, so petteia it was.”

Petteia was a two-person board game requiring strategy. Kind of like chess. Her face heated as she remembered playing chess last night. “Weren’t you afraid of hanging out with them?” Had he voluntarily stuck around to spend time with Myrdinian soldiers?

“The Myrdinians?” Cian’s mouth dropped open. “They’re fierce, but most of them are fun. Now, a Sardi,” —he shook his head— “I would never spend an extra second with one of them. ” He’d lost some of his breezy air and studied her keenly.

She frowned. No Sardi visited a prostitute. Sardi blood was too rare to take a chance at impregnating some random Omega. Besides, one tenet of being a Sardi was to live above the base urges that inflicted the other classes. The prostitutes who came to the palace were only there for the guests.

“You hate the Sardi?”

“Oh yes.” He spoke the words so coldly, she swore the air temperature dropped several degrees.

She didn’t understand it. The Tyrrhuscans harvested salt as their main livelihood, but their numbers also contained a lot of artisans. Her father had ensured they had trade to sell their goods. What was so bad about that?

“What will you both do now?” Kassandra asked. The question tasted strange on her tongue because, according to the Blood Laws, one’s place in society was set for life. Except … why would a bloodline tell a child they’d grow up to be a prostitute? That seemed wrong. Also, like Briseis said, Omegas typically wanted to find one Alpha to settle with.

Only an Omega could initiate a bond through inviting the Alpha when she was ready, and deep down, all Omegas felt a drive for that connection. A hollowness without it. Even Kassandra felt it, yet she’d never met an Alpha she desired.

Until last night.

She pushed thoughts of the Warlord aside again and focused on the two Omegas across from her. Omegas longed for that connection, yet Cian and Briseis had to live a life without that possibility.

“What are we going to do?” Cian repeated. “Oh, we’re eager for the new rule. The same as you, right?” He still scrutinized her in a way that made her squirm. As if he suspected she was not, in fact, interested in the Myrdinian rule. “We’ll ride out all the turmoil and try to find our place. At least now we’re free.” He leaned back again and adjusted the head covering his face further. A stream of water poured into his lap. He flicked it with a finger. “I think I want to do something on the water. I’ve always loved boats. Maybe I’ll fish.”

Briseis wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. You want to touch scales and smell all day?” She turned to Kassandra. “Not me. I sew and embroider well, so I’ll do that until I meet a rich Alpha. Or perhaps by then, the Warlord will need a mate at his side.” Across the wagon, Briseis’s pupils dilated, swallowing the pale grey of her eyes.

Kassandra almost fell off her crate again. “You want the Warlord?”

Cian pointed. “See! I told you you were crazy. Even Kassandra knows better. He’s dangerous.”

Briseis stuck out her dainty pink tongue at him. “He’s the sexiest Alpha I’ve ever seen. All that contained power and aggression.” She shivered exaggeratedly. “It must be something when he unleashes.”

“That would be when he chops off another head,” Kassandra said.

Cian laughed. “Exactly.” He rolled his eyes and jerked his thumb at Briseis. “This one has all sorts of romantic ideas.” Cian nudged the bag at their feet. “Speaking of, did you remember to bring all our strobile?”

Briseis tossed her head. “Of course. I also went into the cupboard and took some from storage. Are you planning on getting frisky tonight, then?”

“You never know so it’s better to be prepared. I don’t want to bond with anyone, I only want his c—” He cut himself off, his gaze cutting to Kassandra. “Attention. You know how Alphas are. They can be so tempting.”

“What’s strobile?” she asked.

Cian shot her an odd look. “It prevents you from asking an Alpha for the bond. You know how Alphas are just so …” His hand flailed as if he were trying to pull words out of the air.

“Alluring,” Briseis said, filling in the rest of the sentence. “Everything they do is seductive. And when he knots you, sometimes you can get carried away by how amazing it feels. You might beg him to bind you to him forever because it’s just so delicious. But strobile prevents you from feeling the click and offering the bond. No fuss. No bonding. Both of you can go on your merry way.”

This was the first she’d ever heard about how the bond worked. “You think sex with an Alpha is delicious?”

“Of course,” Briseis said. “They’re magnetic, especially these Myrdinians. Many of them have never had an Omega. Ever. They’re extremely giving.” She laughed. “I didn’t see you in the tent, but based on those marks on your neck, you must have sampled some of them?”

Kassandra’s face burned for the second time. “Something like that.”

Cian nudged Briseis. “Stop teasing her. Not every Omega is as Alpha crazy as you are.” He turned to Kassandra. “She’s exaggerating, of course. All Alphas make us react, but certain ones really make you crazy. I’ve heard when you meet, you know, your Alpha, it’s even worse.”

“Are you talking about bondmates?”

The Sardi had perfected finding the right match for every Alpha and Omega. They chose all marriages carefully. Some people in the outer villages still believed in bondmates, like Cian was saying, but the Sardi knew better. A regular marriage bond was far better.

The concept of bondmates was utterly ridiculous. Truly bonded mates were weak. Distracted. That’s why the Sardi supported an arranged bond through marriage instead. Since it wasn’t a bondmate bond, it was good. It settled both parties. Made them stronger. More productive.

“Bondmates make an Alpha and an Omega weak,” she said.

Cian fished a small pouch out of the bag and looked at the contents. “The Sardi say that, so I’m not sure it’s true. It was once the only way an Alpha and an Omega married, so all those Alphas back then couldn’t have felt it made them weak.”

“Why would the Sardi lie?”

He laughed. “Why wouldn’t they lie? But I wouldn’t worry about bondmates. They’re rare now. Maybe the Sardi bred it out of all of us.” He studied her again in his searching way. “Where have you been living? I haven’t seen you before.”

“I’ve been living as a priestess of Suilani at the Temple in the Mountain.”

“A temple priestess? That’s rough.”

Briseis sat up taller and looked down her nose. “That’s where they send Omegas who are too undesirable to get a mate.”

“Or the ones they don’t want around,” Kassandra said tightly.

When Briseis opened her mouth to reply, Cian elbowed her. “That’s enough.” He ducked out from their shared shelter into the rain and sat on Kassandra’s crate with her. “Put out your little hand. Here. Take some of the herb Briseis stole.” He tilted some dried tablets into her palm. “If you’re going to end your drought from being at the temple with some beefy warrior tonight, you’ll need this.”

“Will strobile still prevent the bond from clicking with anyone? Even a—” she swallowed “—strong Alpha?”

“It’s always worked for us.”

If she took strobile, and she did end up coupling with the Warlord—which she did not want to ever happen—she wouldn’t be bound to him forever. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” All she had was the pocket in her trousers, and she stuffed the tablets in before they got wet.

“You all right, Cian?” A deep voice boomed overhead, and she jumped. It was the Alpha from the gate yesterday, the one with the vicious scar trailing below his ear and down his neck, as if someone tried to cut his throat and stopped halfway.

“Weather could be better.” Cian’s lips parted into a broad smile, showing his white, straight teeth for the first time. “But I’m fine.”

“Tomorrow I’ll make sure they shift some things out of one of the covered wagons. There’s no need for you to be in the rain.”

“Don’t take any trouble.” Cian’s gaze was steady on the Alpha, his voice deeper and more melodious.

“It isn’t.”

The Alpha glanced at Kassandra. “Don’t talk to this one, she’s a Sardi prisoner.”

Kassandra’s stomach clenched. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned away, but not before she saw Cian’s expression turn stony and angry. She turned to the wall, giving them all her back.

“The Myrdinians are taking prisoners?”

“That isn’t your concern.”

“Yes, it is. You said the Myrdinians would treat the people of the peninsula differently. Taking an Omega as a prisoner is a Sardi thing.”

Kassandra jolted. That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say.

She peeked over her shoulder. Cian and the Alpha stared at each other, and Cian lifted his chin slightly.

The Alpha growled. “Watch yourself, Cian. Lodan granted permission for you to join us, but he can just as easily toss you out again.” With a kick of his heels, he steered his horse away.

Cian sighed. “Well, that settles it. If he was interested, he isn’t anymore.”

That was the Alpha Cian fancied? She supposed he was handsome in his own way. Not like the Warlord, though.

Wait, what? No. The Warlord wasn’t attractive. Last night wasn’t about attraction, it was what Cian described—some sort of Omega response.

Briseis huffed. “That was your own fault. What the hell were you thinking asking him about a Sardi? Who cares about her?”

“It’s the principle. I thought the Myrdinians were all about freedom.” Catching Kassandra watching him, he met her gaze coolly and raised an eyebrow a fraction before turning away.

Kassandra closed her eyes and huddled under her cloak. It was going to be a long day.