To ruin an Omega - Chapter 361: Ain’t it Delicate

Chapter 361: Ain’t it Delicate

FIA

I stayed against the wall for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few moments. My legs still trembled. The taste of bile clung to the back of my throat no matter how many times I swallowed.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway.

I looked up and saw Maren hurrying toward me. Her eyes went wide when she took in the scene. Me slumped against the stone. The mess on the floor.

“Goddess, are you alright?”

I tried to straighten. “I’m fine.”

Maren’s gaze dropped to the vomit pooling near my feet. “Clearly not.”

She closed the distance between us and put a hand on my shoulder. Her touch was steady and grounding.

“Can you stand?”

I pushed off the wall. The hallway tilted immediately. My vision swam and I felt my knees buckle.

Maren caught me before I could fall. Her arm went around my waist and she pulled me against her side.

“I’ve got you,” she said.

She turned her head and called out loudly. “Someone, please. I need help here.”

Two Omegas appeared around the corner moments later. They stopped dead when they saw us. Their faces registered shock as they took in the state of me and the floor.

“Please take care of this,” Maren said, gesturing at the mess.

Both Omegas nodded quickly and hurried off, presumably to fetch cleaning supplies.

Maren adjusted her grip on me. “We should head to the infirmary.”

I wanted to argue. To insist I was fine. But another wave of dizziness swept through me and I swallowed the protest.

“Perhaps the mourning moon somehow affected you,” Maren said as we started moving. Her voice was calm but there was an edge of concern beneath it.

I shook my head weakly. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“Please do not be stubborn.”

I let her lead me down the hall. Each step felt like wading through water. My body was heavy and uncooperative.

We turned another corner and nearly ran straight into that man; Valentine and Madeline.

Madeline’s eyes went to me immediately. They widened. Her gaze swept over how I leaned heavily on Maren, how my face must have looked pale and clammy.

We exchanged looks. Hers was filled with something I couldn’t quite read. Worry maybe. Or curiosity. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something but then closed it again.

She then walked past without a word.

Her father, Valentine, however, didn’t move.

He lingered in the hallway. His eyes fixed on me with that same unsettling intensity I had noticed earlier.

“You don’t look so good,” he said.

Maren’s grip on me tightened. “Could you please excuse us.”

Valentine raised his hands slightly. “I apologize.” He paused. “It is just that you remind me a lot of someone.”

My skin prickled. A shudder ran through me that had nothing to do with the nausea.

“I hope after all of this gets done we can truly get to know each other, Luna Fia.”

The way he said my name made something cold settle in my chest.

Madeline walked back and grabbed her father by the arm. “Not the time.”

She pulled him away. Valentine let himself be led but his eyes stayed on me until they turned the corner and disappeared from view.

I watched the empty space where they had been. That cold feeling didn’t fade.

Maren slowly guided me forward again. “Come on. Let’s get you checked.”

The infirmary doors were already open when we arrived. Inside, the space was quiet. Thorne wasn’t back yet. My mother-in-law, Luna Morrigan still slept in one of the cots on the far side of the room. Her breathing was soft and even now.

Maren helped me to a chair near the workspace. I sank into it gratefully.

“I’ll concoct a cure for safety,” she said, already moving toward the shelves of herbs and bottles.

“I was careful,” I said. My voice came out weaker than I intended. “It wasn’t mourning moon. This is something else.”

Maren paused and looked back at me. “What do you need then?”

I took a slow breath. My heart was beating faster now. Not from fear exactly. Something closer to anticipation.

“Blue vervain,” I said. “Moonwort. Powdered limestone.”

Maren turned fully to face me. Her expression shifted. “Crushed beet petals?”

I nodded.

Her eyes widened. “That would be a…”

She didn’t finish. She stared at me for a long moment and then her hands flew to her mouth.

“No way.”

“I’m not sure,” I said. My hands were shaking now. “But that is what it feels like. It is what my gut tells me and it doesn’t tend to be wrong.”

Maren stood frozen for another beat. Then she spun and grabbed a small glass container from one of the lower cabinets. She thrust it toward me.

“Pee in this.”

I took the container. My fingers felt clumsy around the smooth glass.

“I’ll go make the mixture,” Maren said. She was already pulling ingredients from the shelves before I could respond.

I stood carefully and made my way to the small toilet attached to the infirmary. My legs still felt unsteady but the dizziness had faded to a dull hum in the background.

I first took a moment to wash the taste of bile out of my mouth.

Then, inside the cramped space, I filled the container. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I had to grip it with both hands to keep from dropping it.

When I came back out, Maren already had a beaker sitting on the workspace. The solution inside was a pale violet. Delicate and almost pretty in the lamplight.

I walked over and handed her the container.

She opened it without hesitation and poured the contents into the beaker.

Nothing happened at first.

The violet stayed pale and still.

“Oh,” I wouldn’t lie. Disappointment rushed over me. “I guess I was—”

But right before I could even finish the words, the solution started to bubble.

I stopped mid-sentence and watched. The bubbles grew more vigorous. The color began to shift and deepen. The pale violet turned to rich purple and even the purple turned darker still.

Within seconds, the entire mixture had transformed into a deep indigo.

Maren gasped. Her hand came up to cover her mouth again.

I stared at the beaker. At the dark swirling liquid that had just confirmed what some small part of me had already known.

“Oh my… goddess…” Maren’s voice was barely a whisper. “Congratulations, Luna Fia.”

I put both hands to my flat stomach.

The gesture felt automatic. Instinctive.

There was nothing there to feel yet. No swell or movement or any physical sign at all. But I knew. Deep in my bones, I knew for sure now.

A baby.

I was carrying a baby.

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me. It came out shaky and breathless. Tears formed hot and fast at the corners of my eyes.

I didn’t try to stop them.

They spilled over and ran down my cheeks while I stood there with my hands pressed against my stomach. Against the tiny life growing inside me.

Mine.

Ours.

The thought of Cian flashed through my mind. His face. His voice. The way he had looked at me earlier with that desperate hope in his eyes.

He didn’t know yet.

I would have to tell him.

The tears kept coming. But they weren’t sad. They were something else entirely. Relief maybe. Joy. A wild overwhelming sense of wonder that I couldn’t quite put into words.

Maren moved closer. She put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“How do you feel?” she asked softly.

I looked up at her. My vision was blurred from the tears but I could still see the warm smile on her face.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. My voice cracked. “Terrified. Happy. Both.”

Maren squeezed my shoulder. “That sounds about right.”

I laughed again. It came out watery and broken but real.

A baby.

In the middle of everything. In the middle of coups and poison and making deals with a cruel warlock… In the middle of a war that hadn’t even fully started yet…

I was going to be having a baby.

The timing was… terrible. The worst it could possibly be.

But standing there with Maren’s hand on my shoulder and my own hands pressed against my stomach, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

This tiny fragile thing inside me felt like hope.

Like something worth fighting for.

Worth surviving for.

I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand but more tears just replaced the ones I cleared away.

“Does anyone else know?” Maren asked.

I shook my head. “No. Just you.”

“Are you going to tell Cian?”

The question hung in the air between us.

I thought about it. About walking back to his office right now and interrupting whatever deal he was making with Valentine. About pulling him aside and whispering the news.

But something held me back.

Not doubt. Not fear exactly.

Just the knowledge that this moment was mine. Just for a little while longer. Before it became real to anyone else. Before it changed everything.

“Soon,” I said finally. “I’ll tell him soon.”

Maren nodded. She didn’t push. She just stood there with me while I cried and laughed and tried to wrap my mind around what was happening.

A baby.

My baby.

Our baby.

I looked down at my hands still resting against my stomach. They had finally stopped shaking.

The maternal joy that had taken root in my chest grew stronger with every passing second. It pushed back against the fear and the uncertainty and all the chaos swirling around us.

This baby was the future we were fighting for. Not the hell that Aldric had tried to force on Cian. Not the poisoned legacy of cruelty and control. This baby would be born into something different. Something we would build with our own hands from the ashes of everything that would die in the Elder’s circle before the moon crept up tonight.

A horn sounded in the distance.

Low and resonant, it echoed across the estate grounds.

Maren’s head snapped toward the window. She crossed the room quickly and pushed the glass open. Cool air rushed in.

“Goddess,” she breathed. “They’re here.”

I stood. My legs felt steadier now. “Who?”

Maren looked back at me as I reached the window beside her.

“The Elders.”

My heart kicked hard against my ribs.

She turned her gaze back outside. “That means the trial will begin.”