To ruin an Omega

Chapter 205: Devil’s Advocate

ALDRIC

I stood in the doorway and watched Morrigan direct the maids. Her voice carried across the room, crisp and clear, none of that rasping weakness that had marked her voice for over two years.

This renewed strength of hers made me sick to the stomach. I had been so close to taking her out without suspicion. Now I had to deal with her stupid saccharin ass again.

She gestured to the curtains, then to the bedside table, pointing out what needed to be moved, what needed to be cleaned, what needed to be thrown out entirely.

She looked good. Better than good. She looked like herself again. Oh. I hated it.

The maids scurried around her, nodding and murmuring agreements, their arms full of linens and bottles and the detritus of sickness. One of them carried a tray stacked with jars of herbs, the kind the healers had been forcing down Morrigan’s throat for weeks. The smell of them still clung to the air, bitter and medicinal.

I needed to move quickly now. Fia would come to Morrigan soon. Probably today. Maybe even this evening once she was back from the secret game we were playing at Silver Creek. And when she did, she’d talk. She’d spill every suspicion she had about me, every theory, every dark thought that had been building in that pretty head of hers since the moment she arrived.

Morrigan wouldn’t believe it. Not immediately. Cian hadn’t turned on me yet, despite everything. But women were different. Women were quicker to doubt, quicker to see shadows where men saw only light. And Morrigan… Stupid as she was, could be sharp when occasion demanded it. Always had been really. If Fia planted the seed, it would grow.

It was why she was the one I wanted to take out first in the first place.

So I had to poison the soil first.

Morrigan turned and saw me. Her eyes widened slightly. “Aldric? What are you doing here?”

I smiled. The warm one. The one I’d perfected over decades of practice. “It’s nice to see you as yourself again.”

I stepped into the room. The maids froze, uncertain whether to continue or flee. I waved a hand at them. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

They went back to work.

Morrigan watched me, and I tried to see through her. I was good at it. But sometimes with this woman, it could be hard. It was like she placed a mirror in front of her face and all that stared back was yourself.

She’d sometimes been hard to read, even when my brother was alive. It was one of the things he’d loved about her.

“It’s also nice to see this room not stink of herbs,” I said.

The corner of her mouth twitched into almost a smile. “I can agree on that.”

I moved further into the room, my eyes scanning the space. The curtains were open now, letting in real light for the first time in years. The bed was stripped, the blankets folded and piled on a chair. The nightstand was clear except for a single framed photograph.

My brother’s face stared out at me from the frame. Younger. Happier. Standing next to Morrigan in what looked like a garden somewhere. Her hand was on his chest. His arm was around her waist.

I picked up the frame. The glass was cool under my fingers. “How I miss him.”

The words came out soft. Genuine. Because they were genuine. I practiced this feeling. It was anything but false.

Morrigan crossed the room and wrapped her arms around me. The embrace was brief but it was still repulsive. “We all do.”

I held the frame for another moment, then set it back down on the nightstand.

“Have you had breakfast?” I asked.

“No,” she answered honestly.

“You should eat,” I said.

Morrigan stepped back. She shook her head. “I don’t feel hungry.”

“You need your strength.”

“I have things to do.” She gestured at the room, at the maids, at the chaos of cleaning and organizing. “A lot of things.”

I looked at her. Really looked at her. The stubborn set of her jaw. The determination in her eyes. She was going to work herself into the ground trying to make up for lost time.

At least I could pull that off her.

“You know none of it is running away, right?” I said. “You’re back. You’re fine.”

“Well.” She crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t be fine if it wasn’t for Fia.”

There it was. The opening I needed.

“That girl saved my life,” Morrigan continued. Her voice was firm.

I nodded slowly. “I heard all about it.”

I let a pause settle between us. Let the weight of what I was about to say build in the silence.

“But she doesn’t like me.”

Morrigan’s eyebrows shot up. “What? That’s utter nonsense.”

“Except it’s not.” I kept my voice level. Reasonable. Like I was simply stating a simple fact.

I moved to the window and looked out at the grounds. The gardens were green and lush, the trees heavy with summer leaves.

“In my bid to save you,” I said, “and with all the witches sort of turning their back on us, I had to reach out to the Blossoms.”

I turned to face her. Let her see the regret in my eyes. The guilt.

And damn was I good at it.

“I know I looked hella suspicious all through. Because of how guilty I felt going through that route. But I couldn’t see you die, Morrigan.” My voice dropped. “After my brother… I couldn’t lose you. Cian couldn’t lose you.”

Morrigan’s expression softened. I saw it happen. I saw the exact moment the hook set.

“But the moment Madeline showed up,” I continued, “it was like Fia made me enemy number one. And I understand.” I spread my hands. “This was Cian’s ex. We all know how much he loved Madeline. How deep and poignant that relationship was. I know she feels threatened.”

I walked back toward Morrigan. My bait was set and she had definitely taken it.

“But I also know Cian has moved on. And you’re alive. So I’m fine with being her enemy. Time will heal that wound for her.”

Morrigan shook her head. Emphatic. “I swear she isn’t like that. You two must have just gotten on the wrong foot.”

“You think so?”

“It’ll get better.” She reached out and touched my arm. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah.” Her grip tightened slightly. “She’s my daughter-in-law. And I’m making sure Madeline gets the hell out of here before she can cause chaos.”

Perfect. She was exactly where I needed her.

But I couldn’t seem too eager. I couldn’t push too hard.

“Oh.” I let doubt creep into my voice. “I don’t know. Madeline did save you. I don’t think she’s an enemy.”

“Of course not,” Morrigan said quickly. “I owe her. But she’s also here for nefarious reasons.”

I raised an eyebrow. But I let her continue as if this wasn’t all my design.

“She clearly wants Cian back. Can you believe that?”

I made my expression thoughtful as if I was considering it. “They did have a past. A past that never did end right. Perhaps meeting again will end the Chapter.”

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just not giving them the chance. Anything can blossom.”

“You do like Fia a lot.”

“I do.”

The words were fierce. Protective. Possessive. Exactly what I had been counting on.

I sighed, the sound heavy with concern rather than challenge. “That is why I worry. Hatred that deep rarely comes from nowhere. It usually comes from fear. Or from feeling like something precious is being threatened.”

Morrigan’s jaw tightened. “I do not hate the girl.”

“I have watched,” I continued gently, “even during your illness. Even while you slept. I have watched Fia and Cian grow closer. Quietly. Naturally. Not because anyone pushed them, but because time does that to people.”

Her fingers curled into her skirts.

“But meddling,” I added, almost casually, “has a way of breaking fragile things. And when someone insists hard enough on an outcome, it has a habit of snapping in the opposite direction.”

She looked at me sharply now. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying,” I replied, lowering my voice, “do not antagonize the witch.”

Her eyes flashed. “She is the one antagonizing me.”

“Is she?” I tilted my head. “I hear she has already been excommunicated from her coven for helping us. Imagine that sacrifice. Cast out by her own kind, branded disloyal, and still she is met with suspicion and disdain at the place she chose to stand. That is not a pleasant place to stand.”

Morrigan hesitated.

“What would you have me do?” she demanded. “She said she wants Cian back.”

“A relationship is not a one way street,” I said calmly. “Love cannot be forced.”

Her lips pressed together. “And what if he still loves her?”

I shrugged lightly. “What about it?”

She scoffed. “You men.”

“He is married,” she snapped. “He is Fia’s.”

“Perhaps,” I said, my voice almost regretful, “this is why Fia was right to hate me. Because I am selfish at the end of the day. I want Cian’s happiness first. And if he still loves Madeline, I do not see the issue.”

Her head snapped up. “No.”

“An Alpha can have multiple wives,” I added smoothly.

“No,” Morrigan said again, fiercer now. “Not my Cian.”

I smiled faintly. “Your fear makes sense. You know he married because of you. Because of pressure. Because of duty.”

She said nothing.

“If he still loves Madeline,” I went on, “you believe everything will fracture. Am I wrong?”

She stared at me, realization dawning slowly, painfully.

“I hate you so much,” Morrigan said at last.

I chuckled, unable to help myself.

“Because,” I said lightly, “you know that I am right.”

I let the moment stretch, just long enough for the sting to linger, then softened my expression.

“Morrigan,” I said quietly, “I am only playing devil’s advocate. Someone has to say the uncomfortable things so they lose their power.”

Her gaze stayed sharp and guarded.

“I truly believe Cian has moved on,” I continued. “What he shared with Madeline belonged to another version of him. A younger one. Grief changes people. Responsibility changes them even more. He is not a man who lives in the past, no matter how loudly it tries to call to him.”

She studied my face, searching for mockery and finding none.

“And Fia?” she asked.

“She is his present,” I said simply. “And whether anyone likes it or not, that matters.”

Only then did I smile, light, deliberate, as if easing us out of deep water.

“Well,” I said, “let us talk about old things while we eat. Brunch would not kill us.”

“There’s a lot to fix here.” Morrigan gestured at the room again. At the maids who were pretending not to listen to every word we said.

“Leave the omegas to do it.” I kept my voice gentle. Persuasive. “I’m sure they don’t want you breathing in their ears. They’ve done this for a long time before you got sick. Just let them be.”

Morrigan looked around the room. At the half-cleaned surfaces. At the maids with their arms full of linens. At the work that still needed to be done.

I could see her weighing it. The desire to be useful against the exhaustion that still lingered in her bones. The need to be in control against the very reasonable suggestion that she rest.

Finally, she sighed. The sound was long and tired.

“Okay then.”

Victory tasted sweet on my tongue.

I offered her my arm. She took it. We walked toward the door together, leaving the maids to their work.

And just like that, I gave her something else to focus on, while the seed I planted settled quietly into the soil.