Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 83: Count Raymond

Chapter 83: Count Raymond

Thorne is gone, off on one of his many errands. He left early this morning, more intense than usual, and now, as I bend down to trim the flowers, I can still feel the lingering ache in my body. A wry smile tugs at my lips. If I were a female omega, I’m sure I’d be pregnant by now. The thought makes me laugh softly to myself, imagining the chaos that would bring.

I pause, wondering when my next heat will hit. Soon, maybe? What about his rut? I know we’ve been circling around that moment, waiting for the right time for our cycles to align. That’s when he’ll mark me. My hand drifts up to touch the collar around my neck, where his mark will eventually be, and I find myself giggling at the thought like some lovesick fool.

Doris, my ever-stoic maid, raises an eyebrow but says nothing. She’s used to my little outbursts by now, though she’d never let it show. Still, her silent presence is oddly comforting as I return to tending to the flowers.

Unfortunately, my good mood is cut short when a servant informs me that I have a visitor. I sigh inwardly. I hate visitors. They always mean trouble, and today, I just wanted to enjoy the peace of the greenhouse.

"Send them here," I say, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice. Whoever it is, they’ll have to deal with me in my element, pruning shears in hand.

A few moments later, I hear footsteps crunch on the gravel of the greenhouse path. I look up, expecting some minor noble with more complaints or someone seeking Thorne, but instead, I’m met with the sight of an older man. Green eyes, dark brunette hair streaked with silver, and a confident gait that reeks of entitlement. He walks in like he owns the place, his gaze sweeping over the greenhouse as though he’s appraising it. My fingers tighten around the scissors.

Who the fuck is this?

"I like what you’ve done with the place," the man says, his tone casual as if we’ve known each other for years.

I blink at him, narrowing my eyes. "Thank you," I reply cautiously. "And you are...?"

"Oh," he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. "It’s Count Raymond."

Count Raymond? My mind races for a moment before the name clicks into place. Ah. Oliver’s father. And, of course, Thorne’s former master. The man who trained him. My posture stiffens.

"Oh, I’ve heard so much about you," I say, forcing a polite smile and bowing slightly. "A pleasure to meet you, Count."

He chuckles, though there’s something in the way he looks at me that makes my skin prickle. "I’m glad to hear that. I was beginning to think Thorne had forgotten about me, what with him being in the capital for months now and not even sparing an old man a simple hello."

I say nothing, because honestly, what is there to say? I don’t know what he’s expecting from me. An apology on Thorne’s behalf? An excuse? I’m not his secretary, and this man clearly knows that. He’s here for something else.

"Well, he’ll be back this afternoon," I offer, turning back to my flowers, hoping he’ll get the hint. "You could wait for him if you’d like."

Count Raymond waves his hand dismissively. "No, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll catch up with him later. I came to see the both of you, so half of my visit is already accomplished."

I freeze, my grip tightening on the shears. What? My eyes flick back to him, my expression carefully neutral, but inside, I’m annoyed as hell.

"To what do I owe the pleasure then, Count?" I ask, my voice smooth, though I have no interest in entertaining him.

The count tilts his head, watching me with a glint in his eyes that feels far too calculated.

"I heard Thorne was married," he begins, his tone too casual, too rehearsed, "and from what I’ve been told, quite smitten with his new spouse. Naturally, I was curious. You see, I was so sure that if Thorne ever got married, it would be to my dear boy."

There it is. The real reason for his visit. Oliver. I knew it. I don’t let the flash of annoyance show on my face, but inwardly, I’m rolling my eyes. Of course, this was about Oliver. They all thought Thorne would end up with him, didn’t they? Well, too bad. Thorne is mine.

"Ah, Oliver, right. Life sure is unpredictable," I say with a polite smile, but my focus is back on the flowers. If I don’t focus, I might just haul these garden scissors into his eyes. No one likes being told they weren’t the first choice.

Count Raymond laughs, though there’s no warmth in it. "Yes, but you’re quite the beauty—devastating, even. If someone had to steal Thorne’s heart, it’s no surprise it was you. I’m sure your looks played a factor, among other things."

I laugh dryly at that. A devastating beauty? Does he really think Thorne chose me for my looks? If Thorne were so easily swayed by appearances, he’d have married Oliver ages ago. We’re objectively on the same level, after all. This man has no idea.

"It was a surprise to most, I agree," I respond with a shrug, refusing to engage in his little game.

Count Raymond doesn’t back down. "Not really. Someone like you could capture the heart of any man in power. You shouldn’t sell yourself short."

There it is—his insult, thinly veiled beneath a compliment. He’s trying to say that it didn’t matter who the man was, as long as they had power, I would have found my way into their bed. I feel a surge of anger but force myself to remain calm. He’s fishing for a reaction, and I won’t give him the satisfaction.

"I don’t think that’s a very nice thing to say about your disciple’s consort, Count," I say, moving to the next batch of flowers with deliberate calm. I hear him sigh, as if this whole conversation is a burden on his saintly soul.

"I apologize," he says, though there’s no real remorse in his voice. "It’s just that... well, I’m a father. Oliver has had his heart set on Thorne for most of his life. It’s hard to see him like this, knowing he’ll never have what he wants."

I straighten, the tension in my shoulders increasing. And how exactly is that my problem?