The hall smelled of old money and lies.
It was the same intricate dance of nobility and wealth that had governed his life since birth and would continue to rule it until his heirs took control and he was put to rest in the family tomb. Kael hated it all.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers trailing along the crystal flute of champagne he had been nursing for the past ten minutes. The alcohol did little to lighten his mood. Social events like this had always been his least favourite past-time, even before his marriage to Adien had turned it into a particularly exquisite form of torture. However it wasn't one he could afford to ignore - it was his wedding anniversary celebration to his husband after all.
He stole a glance at his omega across the crowded ballroom. Adien stood exactly where Kael had left him twenty minutes ago—beside the grand piano, a small, polite, but empty smile fixed on his face as the Duchess of Marebourne droned on about something Kael couldn’t hear from this distance.
The smile wasn’t real.
Nothing about their marriage was real. Not in the true sense of the word according to poetry and religion.
Kael’s jaw tightened as he turned back to the window, watching snowflakes spiral past the leaded glass. His head throbbed in a way that suggested a headache was forming. He reached up to loosen his collar a little. The room felt too warm and he wished he was outside in the falling snow.
Escape was impossible though.
One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days of being shackled to a stranger who happened to bear his family name. The very notion was ridiculous.
They had perfected the charade over those months. The obligatory performances in public were handled with grace; the hand holding for the cameras, the arm leading for the red carpet events, the obligatory dances where ballroom etiquette would be offended should they refuse. They were the perfect noble couple, just as their families had arranged.
It was a tragically beautiful lie.
Kael’s gaze drifted back to Adien. Even from here, he could see the omega’s shoulders held at that precise angle of elegant disinterest—a
posture Kael recognized because he’d mastered it himself. They were mirrors of the same emptiness, reflections of obligation rather than desire. Though he did note that his Omega looked a little pale.
Keel frowned as he placed the crystal flute down on a passing server's tray and adjusted his cuffs. That was another source of annoyance; Adien was diabetic. Type-1. Before the arranged marriage and the obligatory engagement duties, Kael had no need to worry about calories or insulin calculations or food intake diaries. However, as soon as the match had been announced, he'd been forced to learn all the medical protocols for caring for a diabetic spouse. It had been a bore then and was still a bore now.
Thankfully Adien could manage his own health without Kael's input, so he'd not needed to act upon the training that had been forced upon him.
“Your Grace,” a voice murmured beside him. Lord Hadrian, one of his father’s political allies. “May I offer my congratulations on your anniversary. The match seems to be... prosperous.”
Prosperous indeed. Everyone knew that the marriage had been arranged so that two very wealthy families could merge their lineage and their companies to profit. The fact that Adien's family were related to the Royal family was a big reason Kael's parents had pushed for the betrothal. And at Adien's own confession, Kael knew that his in-laws had chosen the Ravenwoods for Adien because his diabetic condition made him ineligible for any royally related political betrothal. The king's words hadn't been kind at the suggestion when Prince Whittington, Adien's father, had asked his brother the King for a suggested betrothal for his son within the royal protocol.
Kael nodded, trying to ignore the sweat that was accumulating on his back underneath the heavy fabrics of the suit he was wearing. “Thank you, Lord Hadrian. We’re fortunate indeed.”
Fortunate. The word tasted like ash. Fortunate to have been sold like breeding stock. Fortunate to have found the perfect Omega—not because Adien was perfect for Kael, but because his bone structure and colouring happened to match someone else entirely.
Yes. Kael had other reasons for being distant with his husband. While Adien being of royal blood was one main reason Kael's parents had pushed this betrothal, there was a convenient second reason. Adien very closely resembled someone else, someone Kael had loved desperately for years. To his parents, it was a concession; an apology for denying his first and only love. But to Kael it was an insult wrapped in a beautiful facade that reminded him daily of what he had been denied.
“I believe you’re wanted for the toast,” Hadrian continued, his eyes drifting meaningfully toward the raised dais at the centre of the ballroom. “Your father specifically requested your presence with His Grace, Prince Adien.”
Of course he had. Lord Hadrian’s message delivered, the man drifted away into the crowd, leaving Kael with a familiar hollow sensation in his chest. The room really was too hot.
With a deep breath, Kael straightened his cravat and crossed the ballroom. Adien’s eyes met his as he approached—light hazel green, framed by ash-coloured lashes that looked so similar it made his stomach clench. Not Adien’s eyes. His eyes. The boy who truly held Kael's heart. Adien was the imposter here and the Omega knew it.
“Ready?” Kael asked, offering his arm with mechanical precision. It was expected - another performance for the public.
Adien’s fingers carefully settled on his sleeve, light as moth wings. He knew he was the replacement. He knew Kael would rather have his lover on his arm than he. He at least made the effort not to push any boundaries, for that Kael was grateful.
“Yes.” Adien replied simply. His voice held that soft grace that painted him as meek and demure. However, now that he was standing closer, Kael could see the pallor of his husbands face. He hadn't imagined it; Adien was looking pale tonight.
“You're too pale. Have you been monitoring your condition?" He asked quietly so that those near them couldn't hear. He'd phrased it as concern, but it came out sounding annoyed and accusatory. Adien lowered his gaze and swallowed softly.
“I'm fine. No need to concern yourself, Your Grace." His response was quiet, soft, dismissive. Kael frowned to himself as he guided his husband to the stage.
"Don't mistake my questioning for concern. I simply don't want to have to explain to a bunch of reporters why my husband fainted if you keel over. The accusations of me treating a Prince of the Nation poorly would ruin both our families." Kael replied. His tone was cold and he felt Adien shrink a little. The comment was maybe a bit harsh, but Kael was feeling a little hot under the skin tonight and everything about Adien was just rubbing him the wrong way.
“Rest assured Your Grace; I'm not at risk of fainting." His reply was still soft but held a distant undertone.
On the outside it looked like they were exchanging sweet nothings to each other, but the reality was much harsher. They were actors in a play written by their families, performing their roles with Academy-level precision. It was exhausting.
They ascended the steps to the dais together, the perfect picture of noble matrimony. Kael’s father beamed at them from beside his mother. Adien's parents stood beside them too, all four of them wearing expressions of parental satisfaction that had nothing to do with their children’s happiness and everything to do with political advantage and profit.
The crowd quieted as Lord Ravenwood raised his glass. Kael forced his expression into something appropriate as his father praised the “fortunate union” that had “strengthened both our houses.”
Inside, he cringed.
Adien’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on Kael’s arm—not in affection but more of a silent rebuttal of the words that Lord Ravenwood was declaring on their behalf. Kael admitted to himself that they shared that sense of imprisonment if nothing else. A year of sharing space, of polite conversation over breakfast, of separate bedrooms and unspoken loneliness.
Kael’s skin prickled as the toast concluded and applause rippled through the hall. Something felt wrong, had felt wrong all evening but now it was refusing to be ignored. His blood seemed to pulse hotter beneath his skin, his senses sharpening to an uncomfortable degree. The floral arrangements suddenly smelled overwhelming, and the press of bodies in the room felt suffocating.
Especially Adien’s body beside his.
The Omega's natural scent went straight to Kael's head. A wave of heat rolled through him, making his knees weaken momentarily. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t—
“You look unwell, Your Grace,” Adien murmured, and even his voice sounded different now—richer, more alluring. “Perhaps you should sit.”
Kael nodded, unable to form words. He knew this feeling; a strong burning arousal taking root deep in his core. He'd been feeling too warm all evening and now... something clicked into place. The champagne he had drunk. The sudden, overwhelming arousal flooding his system.
He’d been drugged.