Page 201 of The Other Omega

He looked towards the pad on the table, and I turned to Octavian.

“I request that High Lord Severin of House Tureen be taken into immediate protective custody pending examination of the evidence.”

Severin stood. “Punishment before trial.”

“Custody is not conviction,” Octavian said. “You command armed personnel, retain access to evidence and have guards attempting to force their way through the Council cordon. You will not leave here to give them further orders.”

He turned towards me.

“If your case fails, Lord Vaelor, your orders will be examined in turn.”

“I understand.”

Octavian rose. “Does any House object to protective custody?”

Severin looked around the table, but none spoke on his behalf.

“So ordered.”

The chamber guards approached him. He stepped away from his chair, looking towards Bastian before allowing them to take his arms.

At Octavian’s signal, the inner doors opened. Raised voices carried into the chamber from the corridor, where Vaelor soldiers held the security line. Beyond them stood House Tureen’s guards, armed and under watch.

One stepped forward when he saw his High Lord.

“My Lord⁠—”

A Vaelor soldier blocked him, and Severin stopped at the threshold. His gaze passed over his guards, then returned to the pad I was putting away.

For six hours, reports had reached me while his people’s messages went unanswered. His facilities had fallen, his prisoners had been freed, and his records secured. Even the lawful work of his House was continuing without his direction.

The guards led him away, and the doors closed behind them.

At Octavian’s instruction, two of my officers brought in secure pads containing the records available for review. A separate wing was being prepared for examination of the physical evidence, and none of the High Lords reached for the documents they had been gathering before I stood.

Three hundred and fifty Omegas were waiting for more than the temporary protection we had agreed to provide. The arguments over their future would resume soon enough, but Severin would no longer be present to influence them.

House Vaelor remembered, and now so would our realm.

Chapter 42

Lucien

Mireya looked worse than she had at my last visit. One eye had swollen almost shut, her lower lip was split, and bruising darkened one side of her throat. Three fingernails were missing from her right hand.

Caius had overdone it again. Restraint had never been one of his strengths once violence began; there was always too much force, too much blood and considerably more damage than was strictly necessary.

She sat on the stone floor against the wall. There was no mattress, basin or table in her cell, only a drainage opening and the enclosed smell of blood, sweat, fear and human waste. Three physicians worked around her in silence. One monitored the blood supply entering her arm, another closed a wound beneath her ribs, and the third dressed her damaged hand.

Mireya lifted her head when I approached. “Please.”

Six weeks of screaming had reduced her voice to almost nothing. The physician at her arm removed the line and pressed a dressing over the puncture before gathering his instruments.

“We are finished for today, my lord.”

“Thank you.”

I stepped aside to let them pass, then waited for the door to close before crouching a few feet from her, close enough that she would not have to strain to hear me.