"Are omegas only available for you fucking alphas to give birth for?" I snarled, the words sharp enough to cut through the heavy air of the council chamber. The ache between my legs flared with every breath, but I forced my voice steady, my spine straight despite the pain. "Is that all we’re worth to you?"

Count Jennife met my gaze without flinching, her Alpha posture relaxed but firm, the confidence of a noble raised to lead carved into every line of her face.

"I expect my future wife to give birth to the next Alpha," she said smoothly, the arrogance in her tone as polished as the marble floor. "Traditionally, Omegas are the way for Alphas to increase their family line, and it’s still continued. That’s how the world works, Your Highness."

The phrase ’future wife’ hit like a stone dropped into water. She already had someone in mind, some other omega, probably another girl from some noble house, being groomed in the same gilded cage I’d fallen into.

"Do you expect that to continue after I become the emperor?" I pressed, the title sharp on my tongue, the weight of it settling over my shoulders like a coronation veil. "Even when I’m the one giving the orders, the one who can have you all executed if I choose?"

She didn’t look away. "Crown Princess Alexander," she said, the word ’princess’ emphasizing the distance, the hierarchy, the expectation, "we all know that your father pampers you too much."

"She loves me."

"She’s too overprotective of you. She doesn’t reason with anyone; she just shields you. That’s what a good Alpha parent does."

"And you think that’s bad?" I asked, the anger tightening my throat. "She’s protecting her child. Is that wrong?"

"No," the Count replied, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something almost like grudging respect in her eyes. "On the contrary, that’s what I like about her. She’s protecting her daughter. Omegas are meant to be protected."

"I can protect myself, Count Jennife!"

"That’s part of the balance. We Alphas fight for the land, the people, the borders. Omegas carry the next generation, the heirs, the future of the houses."

"So that means I can’t fight?" I asked, the question sharp, the air thickening around me like smoke. "I’m just supposed to sit here, wait for the next generation, and hope you lot don’t die on the battlefield?"

"No," she said, the word crisp. "You can’t fight. It’s not your place. You’re to be protected by your father and your husband. Your father can love as she wants—she’s the Aapha, the one who leads."

"You are defining imaginary boundaries!"

"True. The same goes for your husband. You’re the one who carries the lineage, the one who ensures the blood continues. That’s the role we’ve always known."

Her words crashed over me, the air suddenly thick and suffocating.

The murmur in the chamber grew louder, the nobles exchanging glances, some nodding, some frowning, all of them watching the exchange like a play performed just for them.

Is that what my role is?

The air thickened with the weight of their tradition, the unspoken, deeply ingrained truth that hung in the air like a noose.

"You’re discriminating against me," I said, the words low and sharp, the air crackling with the weight of my anger. "You’re saying I’m not capable because of my designation. That I’m not supposed to be here, that I’m just a... vessel."

The Count’s eyes flashed, the Alpha pride in them sharpening. "That’s the culture, Your Highness." Her voice dropped, the words soft but firm, the air around her tightening with the weight of centuries of tradition. "Every single Alpha here will die to protect you because that’s what we’ve been taught. We’re not barbarians, we’re not heartless."

"Really?!"

"We’re just following the way the world is built. We can’t let the fairer sex—" The word ’sex’ hung in the air, the way it was spoken making it feel like a blade slipped between my ribs. "Fight for us. We’re the ones who bleed the blood, the ones who die for the kingdom. You’re the one who carries the future."

"I’m not your vessel," I said, my voice low and sharp, the air crackling with the weight of my anger. "I’m not just a womb, waiting to be filled. I’m the one who’ll sit on that throne, the one who’ll decide the fate of this empire. "

"Like I said, you will become the nominal emperor. Your husband will be the one who will hold all the power."

"No! You can’t hide behind your traditions when the world is changing," I snapped, voice rising over the low murmur of the chamber. "I’m not just an ornament; I’m not just a princess to be protected. I’m the one who’ll inherit the throne, the one who’ll lead. If you Alphas think Omegas are only here to bear heirs, then you don’t understand the throne you’re kneeling for."

Count Jennife’s lips curled in a thin, cold smile. "You’re hypocritical," she said, unimpressed, the air around her tightening with that familiar alpha arrogance. "Your arguments are baseless. There’s nothing you can say that can change our minds. We serve the true emperor. We follow the old ways. That’s the order of things."

The insult rolled over me like a wave, but I didn’t flinch.

"You hate all the omegas," I growled, rising to my feet despite the ache in my body, the veil rippling as I leaned forward over the table. "You act like you’re the one being forced into this role, like you’re the martyr. But you’re the one who’s chosen. You’re the one who’s privileged. Alpha privilege."

Her eyes flashed, the air sharpening. "Call me whatever you want," she snapped, the chamber falling into a heavy silence, the other nobles watching like spectators at a fight they’d been waiting for. "You’re a pampered omega who thinks this is a playground. You’re the one hiding behind your father’s shadow while the rest of us bleed at the border."

A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at my lips.

"Then let’s have a duel," I said, voice low and sharp, the words slicing through the silence like a blade. "And I’ll show you exactly how ’pampered’ I am."