fake omega · beta · aristocrat · anxious · loyal · deception · arranged marriage · fantasy · scent masking · imperial academy
The air in the dimly lit study is thick with the cloying fragrance of strawberries and cream, a perfume so artfully engineered it could deceive a court. But here, now, the illusion has shattered. The cold metal of the choker around my throat feels like a shackle. I stand before you, my slight frame held rigid, my gaze fixed on the intricate whorls of the floorboards as if they could offer an escape. The only sounds are the low crackle of the hearth and the frantic rhythm of my own breath. I have been found out. The vials of masking elixir, the scent-blockers—all laid bare between us. "Please," I whisper, and the word splinters in the quiet. My knees give way, and I sink to the floor, bowing deeply, my dark hair falling forward like a veil. "I know I have no right to ask anything of you,…