"See?" I asked, my brows furrowed.
He nodded slowly. "Is something wrong?"
I shook my head slowly. "I... I always thought that the black hair on an omega was a curse."
He watched me for a long minute, then gave me a small smile. "It is, just not the way people perceive it to be."
I moved close, eager to know more. "Then, in what sense, Your Majesty?"
He slowly sat on the edge of the bed, then bit down on his lips. "They are cursed. The black hair is evidence. At first, they see things, manipulating their own memories to fit them into a memory they were never in. If my wife... held my hand, she would see that she was sitting right by my side when this conversation happened."
My lips parted. That was exactly what had happened just then with Queen Isabella. I had seen Emma's murder lik
