Three Alpha Princes for an Unwanted Omega

AYLA

My eyes fluttered open to a ceiling I did not recognize.

My head was pounding. I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. The pain was like a spike driving through my skull, and the memory of how I had ended up like that crashed into my mind.

The banquet, the wine... blood and then nothing.

"Astrid," I croaked, closing my eyes against the pain. The door creaked open, and footsteps approached the bed. "I need water."

"Did you hit your head so badly, my love? Who is Astrid?"

My eyes flew open.

A man stood above me, his face swimming before my vision. I blinked until he came into focus. He had brown hair swept back from his face into a ponytail and he was watching me with tender concern on his face.

A face I knew all so well.

Alistair.

I scrambled backward, the blankets tangling around my legs. My heart slammed against my ribs.

"What are you doing in my room?" My voice came out too high. "Who let you in?"

Alistair frowned at me. "My dearest, do you need me to call the healer?" He took a step toward the bed.

"Stay back."

His frown deepened. He stopped where he was, his hands half-raised as if gentling a frightened animal. "I knew I should not have let you convince Magnus you were all right. Is anyone out there?"

The door opened again.

A woman entered, her head bowed, her hands folded before her and she also had a face I would have recognized anywhere and in any lifetime.

Willow.

I gasped.

"You summoned me, my lord?"

"Get the healer now. Your lady is still not feeling well."

Willow bowed lower. "At once, my lord." She backed out of the room and the door clicked shut behind her.

I could not stop staring at the place where she had stood. Willow. Willow in a servant’s dress. Willow bowing and calling me her lady.

This was a dream. It had to be a dream. I was still unconscious and my mind had conjured some elaborate fantasy to carry me through the dark. Some world where Willow was my maid.

I should wake up, I thought, pinching myself hard.

I winced at the pain.

Nothing had changed too. The man was still there and watching me with those gray eyes.

I turned to him, "What is your name?"

He tilted his head, studying me.

Now that my head was clearer, he looked like an older version of Alistair.

"I am going to humor you because I do not know how much damage was done to you, dearest. But it is me." He pressed a hand to his chest. "Caelan. Your mate."

My mate.

I gaped at him, my mind spinning.

I caught sight of the mirror across the room and got out of bed, walking past Caelan until I stood before the glass.

The woman staring back at me was me and not me.

Same dark hair, though looser now, falling in waves past my shoulders. Same violet eyes but I was older. I looked like myself in maybe five or ten years.

"What the hell?" The whisper escaped before I could stop it.

Caelan approached behind me, his reflection appearing over my shoulder. "Morgana..."

I spun around. "I want to be left alone."

Something akin to hurt flickered across his face but he did not argue. He bowed his head and walked to the door, closing it gently behind him.

I stood frozen in the center of the room, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

Morgana. He had called me Morgana.

I pressed my palms against my eyes. Think. Think. I had been dying...I remembered that much. The poison spreading through my veins and the world going dark.

The dreams, it had to be!

I had dreamed of an Omega Queen from ancient times. A woman with violet eyes like mine. Now that I thought about it, I had seen Alistair before... no, Caelan. The first dream when I had inhabited this body before I had died and...

A soft knock sounded at the door, jolting me.

"I said I want to be left alone."

"My lady, the healer is here." Willow called out.

I drew a breath and straightened my spine. "All right. Come in."

The door opened and Willow entered first, her head still bowed, followed by an older man in healer’s robes. He carried a leather satchel and wore the same expression Master Aldric always wore.

I found myself staring at Willow.

"What is your name?" I blurted.

Willow startled. Her eyes darted to the healer, then back to me. "My lady?"

The healer stepped forward, his brow furrowing. "My queen, are you all right? Please, lie back down while I run a checkup."

I nodded numbly and turned toward the bed. My foot had barely left the floor when the pain hit.

It was not a headache. I knew what having a headache felt like.

No, this was a pain unlike anything I had ever felt before.

I screamed, my hands flying to my head and my knees bucking as I crashed to the ground.

"My queen!" The healer’s voice was distant, muffled through the roaring in my ears. "My queen, what is it?"

And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished.

I was on the bed now but I did not remember getting there. The healer’s hands were on my temples, his brow furrowed in concentration. Willow stood in the corner, her face pale.

"I do not understand," the healer murmured, pulling back. He pressed a hand to my forehead, then my throat. "You are in perfect health. Your pulse is steady. Your temperature is normal but I am told that your memory has not been the same."

I nodded, still catching my breath. "Yes. I..."

What was the right thing to say?

"I am having trouble remembering certain things."

The healer sighed and straightened. "I must blame it on the spell you attempted the other day. It had too many consequences."

"Spell?"

"Yes, my queen." He looked at me with something like pity. "You knew the risks when you cast it. Magic of that magnitude always exacts a price."

I said nothing. Because I did not know what this woman...this Morgana...had done, or why, or what she had been trying to accomplish. I only knew I was inside her body and her life.

The healer packed his satchel. "Rest now. Your body needs time to recover from the magical exertion. I will return in the morning."

Willow followed him out.

I waited for the door to click shut before I swung my legs off the bed and crossed to the mirror again.

My reflection stared back at me.

I reached up and touched the glass and my reflection did the same but then my reflection in the mirror smiled.

I yanked my hand back. The woman in the mirror did not. She stayed where she was, her palm pressed to the glass, her smile curving with a sadness I could feel in my bones.

"What is this?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"You need to wake up, Ayla."

I stumbled backward. "Who are you?"

"The woman whose body your soul is in. I had to pull you out of yours because you are dying. Our work is not finished." Her smile turned grim. "It has not even begun."