Christopher sat on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the floor where the chandelier’s reflection fractured into dull amber shards. The walls hummed faintly with the low pulse of the palace’s energy system, but the sound only made the silence worse.
His throat ached. The collar was still there, cold, heavy, and mercilessly present even a day later. Every time he swallowed, he could feel it shift against his skin, a precise weight that didn’t belong to him.
The biometric patch on his arm blinked again, red this time. Stress response is critical. Secondary alert engaged.
He didn’t move. He hadn’t moved for a long time.
His body still trembled from the fight, from the withdrawal, from everything. The air smelled faintly of Dax’s pheromones, buried under layers of ventilation and cleaning agents, but still there. That scent was like smoke after a fire: faint, clinging, and impossible to scrub away.
The door slid open quietly.
"Christopher."
Nadia’s voice filled the space, calm but edged with that unmistakable firmness that never asked permission to enter.
She was in her uniform, pale grey, tablet in one hand, and med bag in the other. She didn’t look angry, just... resigned. "I saw the alert on my feed," she said. "Your vitals have been spiking for the last twenty minutes."
"I’m fine."
Her eyebrows rose slightly as she stepped closer. "You’re shaking. Your patch is red. You’re not fine." She stopped near him, scanning his vitals with her wrist console. "Heart rate elevated, cortisol through the roof, pheromonal output uneven. Tell me, dear, what triggered it this time, the suppressants or the King?"
He gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Both."
"That’s what I thought."
She sighed and knelt to meet his eye level, reading the data with brisk efficiency. "First the palace tailor decides to ’reinterpret’ your wardrobe, and now you’re arguing with Dax himself. Do you enjoy giving me heart attacks?"
He managed a faint smile. "You heard about that."
"Everyone heard about that," she said dryly. "The air filtration system nearly collapsed from the pheromonal overload. I’m surprised the glass didn’t crack."
Christopher’s smile faded. His hands tightened slightly in his lap.
Nadia softened her tone. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"
He hesitated. "He wanted to explain things his way. I... didn’t listen."
"Good for you," she muttered, then caught herself and exhaled. "He deserved some humbling after what he did to you."
Her gaze flicked briefly to his throat, to the faint gleam of diamonds and platinum. "Did you ever figure out what that is?"
Christopher’s hand went instinctively to the collar. The stones were smooth under his fingers, cool and foreign. "It’s a necklace," he said finally. "That’s what Hanna told me. She said it was made for me. designed personally by Dax. She wanted to fasten it the other day, but he came in and stopped her before she could, but it’s a collar."
For a second, Nadia didn’t react. Then her entire face drained of color.
"Oh, holy shit," she whispered.
Christopher frowned. "What?"
She stood up fast, her expression shifting from disbelief to outright horror. "She tried to touch it?"
He blinked, startled. "Yes. Why? It’s just..."
"Not just anything." Nadia’s voice cut through the air, low but sharp enough to make him flinch. "Christopher, that’s not a necklace. It’s a bond collar."
He froze.
She took a step closer, lowering her tone the way people do when they’re saying something sacred. "Do you have any idea how serious that is? No one touches a bond collar except the two who are bound by it. Not staff, not assistants, not even the jeweler without gloves. It’s... it’s practically a crime in Saha. Even looking at it during the crafting stage requires royal clearance."
Christopher’s voice came out faint. "She said it was custom. That it was expensive."
"Expensive?" Nadia’s laugh was short and incredulous. "That piece was forged from ceremonial alloys reserved for the royal line. It’s not about money. It’s about oath and ownership, not in the way you’re thinking," she added quickly, seeing the flicker in his eyes. "It’s not meant to leash. It’s meant to bind. To protect. The bond collar is a living device, keyed to your alpha’s pheromones. It’s the most personal thing a Sahan alpha can ever give."
Christopher looked down at the gleaming metal as if seeing it for the first time. "Then why didn’t he tell me?"
"That," Nadia said grimly, "is a question I’d like to ask him."
She rubbed her temple, muttering under her breath. "No wonder he lost it. And no wonder you’re breaking down. You’ve been walking around thinking you’re collared like a pet, while he’s probably wondering why you won’t accept a mark that was supposed to make you untouchable to anyone but him."
Christopher swallowed hard. "So it’s... a vow."
"It’s the vow," Nadia said, still pale. "And Hanna, gods above, she tried to fasten it? That’s treason."
He looked up sharply. "Treason?"
"She’s already under investigation," Nadia said flatly. "Security picked up the order chain this morning. Dax never instructed her to manage your attire, or your jewelry, or anything beyond comfort. His only directive concerning you was, and I quote, ’Have every one of his whims met before he asks.’ That’s it. She went off record. She made changes without authorization."
Christopher blinked slowly. "So all the new clothes, the staff rotations..."
"Were hers." Nadia’s tone was hard now, clipped. "And that stunt with the collar? If he hadn’t walked in, she would’ve violated royal law in front of two dozen cameras. He could’ve had her executed on the spot and he most likely would have done it if not for you."
Christopher’s hand fell from his throat. His mind felt like it was splitting between anger and disbelief. "So all this time... she lied to me."
"Yes."
"And he... didn’t."
Nadia’s eyes softened, though her voice didn’t lose its edge. "He didn’t lie. He just didn’t explain. Which, knowing him, is just as bad."
Christopher stared at her, the words sinking in like knives, one after another, cutting through disbelief until only fury remained.
He could feel his pulse climbing, the patch on his arm flickering again, yellow to red in rapid succession. ’All the new clothes. The staff. The rules. The way everyone looked at me like I was a fragile, unbalanced ornament.’
’Hanna had did that.’
’She made me think I was losing my mind.’
’She will pay for this.’