Kiss the Stranger

“Zaqriya continued.
“Your Highness the Crown Prince, I heard the steward has brought a new assistant—have you met him?”

I flinched at the question. Embarrassed, I glanced at the steward, but Zaqriya went on.
“Covered by a niqāb, I assumed it was a woman. But I hear it’s a man. I haven’t seen for myself—surely that’s acceptable?”
“…Ah.”

Kamar spoke, as if understanding. In the heavy silence he added casually,
“Well, since you’ve already met, it’s settled. I thought you’d like to know he’ll assist the steward.”
“Me?” Zaqriya asked.

Kamar’s voice held a faint smile.
“You’re probably curious about how his research is progressing.”
Zaqriya hesitated, then chuckled awkwardly.
“I always pray for Your Highness’s good health. It’s been some time since His Majesty was confined, and there’s my daughter’s situation to consider.”

He shifted tone.
“When should I take it that Your Highness has made up his mind? My daughter has waited long enough; it’s high time she be received. At this rate she’ll grow old and die waiting. You’ll need an heir soon—what if delaying further causes you to miss the opportunity?”
I shrank back. The steward noticed my unrest and turned to me, gently patting my hand. I fell silent, waiting. Kamar’s voice came again.

“You sound as if you’re desperately hoping for it.”
A suffocating silence fell. The air between them pressed down on everyone. Zaqriya, sensing the shift, hurriedly changed the subject.
“Then it seems the steward may leave us without issue. Is that agreeable?”

Suddenly under scrutiny, the steward showed rare embarrassment. He forced a smile and addressed Kamar.
“Ah, yes. We have no further petitions, nor remaining research—so we hoped to depart early. May we withdraw?”
Kamar’s gaze turned to me. This time I was certain. He ordered, his words deliberately drawn out,

“Sit.”
“……”
The steward fell silent, straightening in place. He muttered quietly—too timidly for me to hear—and the tension fluttered back to the others. A man spoke up.

“Your Highness, when shall the next hunt be? We would be honored if you’d join us in my lands.”
Another added,
“Oh, splendid. It’s been too long since a hunt. The hawks you breed are growing restless. Ha ha ha…”

Useless laughter followed. Trapped, we sipped tea in silence as the flattery washed over me—until a single remark pierced through.

“Your Highness, have you heard? Ma‘aqal has taken a third wife—and she’s an omega.”
I nearly dropped my cup. The steward glanced at me and gripped my arm, steadying me. I was grateful for the niqāb; without it I’d have betrayed my terror.

Gasps and disgusted murmurs trailed into another voice.
“Really, I thought Ma‘aqal wise, but perhaps age dulls the mind. Could it be dementia? How fares his domain?”
“Ma‘aqal was once Your Highness’s tutor—how could this be…”
“Your Highness, personal friendship must not blind you. This is no small matter.”

“An omega could be discarded after use, yet he welcomes her as wife—truly incomprehensible.”
“Surely that omega must have used some trick. Still, fallen for her, Ma‘aqal shows no better sense.”
“He’s clearly lost his wits. Have you tested the sons of that house for… suitability?”

Their words jostled me. I trembled, unable to move or interrupt, until the hall fell eerily quiet. I looked up: Kamar had raised a hand. Only then did he speak.
“Do not repeat unfounded rumors.”
His cool voice cut the hush.

“A wise man would not wed an omega in such vulgar fashion. If this claim is true, I will not let it pass. Until then, any further comment is forbidden.”
Under his command, all murmured “Yes, Your Highness.” Speech died out, but his words imprinted themselves in my mind:
A wise man would not wed an omega in such vulgar fashion.

Vulgar fashion.
My heart felt crushed under a stone. I struggled to breathe, and the heavy mood resumed. A man quietly resumed.
“Your Highness, I apologize for bringing this up—but in my lands we have collected recently manifested omegas. Perhaps they could serve as bait in the next hunt?”

My mind snapped alert. What horrific jest was this? As I blinked, another man chimed in.
“Excellent idea. Hunting omegas as bait beats coursing rabbits or mice. It’ll add true excitement to the hunt.”
Encouraged, a third said,

“What if we use those omegas after removing their pheromones? They’d be worthless otherwise.”
They spoke of us as tools. I trembled, powerless, my legs too weak to stand. The steward’s warnings and Kamar’s orders seemed distant. Words flowed over me helplessly until a soft voice cut through.
“Nazim.”

At that quiet name, the excited chatter died. It was Asgail, imploring fiercely.
Say no.
I begged silently. Tell them you won’t do this—this cruelty is abhorrent.

I’m so glad you’re an omega.
Please.

It’s fortunate you’re an omega.

You said that…!
“Yes, Your Highness.”
To the man’s eager reply, Kamar asked slowly, his tone laced with scorn,

“Do you really believe watching hounds tear omegas would entertain me?”
My thoughts stalled. His voice bore no disgust—only sheer boredom. Asgail’s face reflected that same ennui. Nazim hurried to amend,
“Of course not, Your Highness. This time I have a different spectacle. Please anticipate it—do honor us with your presence…”

“Your Highness, what Nazim proposes is mating frenzied omegas with monkeys.”
Before more could be said, another interjected.
“Monkeys, no—gorillas. Well-trained beasts, believing they’ve found their mate…”

“Enough.”
Asgail waved his hand in irritation. Nazim fell silent. Asgail sneered,
“Omegas go into heat routinely—gorillas too, Nazim.”

I dared hope he would object to their cruelty. Then Asgail added,
“One must mind one’s manners—no animal abuse in front of foreigners.”
His tone dripped mockery, as if daring anyone to protest. My vision blurred; Asgail spoke again.

“We do believe in protecting animals, after all.”
My mind went blank. Beside me the steward interjected,
“Then perhaps you should protect humans as well.”

Asgail answered matter-of-factly,
“Of course I protect all citizens of my realm—thoroughly. Surely you don’t doubt that?”
The steward fell silent, drawing a long breath before replying with a sigh,

“No, Your Benevolence.”
His words seemed laced with irony, but I barely registered. I only wanted to escape. Amid unfamiliar voices, I caught Asgail’s again—so like Kamar’s but not his. Kamar would never speak so cruelly. He would have been angry, but gentle—he would have protected me.
He said he loved me.

I bowed my head, praying the ordeal to end. Tears slipped down onto my hands.
When the gathering finally broke, hours had passed. The Crown Prince rose, and at last we were free to go. I was utterly spent. The steward, equally weary, exhaled and helped me stand.
“Let’s go. I’m exhausted.”

He muttered under his breath as he seated me in the wheelchair. With puffy, tear-stung eyes, I blinked and settled in. Immediately he pushed me toward the hall’s exit—but a voice called from behind.
“Sir, please wait.”
The steward paused, sighed, and answered above my head,

“Yes, Lord Zaqriya.”
Footsteps approached. The hall was now empty save for us and him. A strange, sweet scent drifted near. I felt a chill run down my spine.