"You're just a practical girl, if you don't mind me saying. And he's an eager lad, was always trying to bend his father's ear about some local problem or the other. You'll be a good pair for us," Maggie murmured.
Her speech was a little too familiar, now that my position had changed, but I was grateful because it was just what I needed to hear. There was work to be done, and I was accustomed to work. I gathered up the crumbs from the table and then straightened my skirts. I'd worn my best to see the alpha, but my best was from the time before I'd left Malcolm and was now worn enough to be serviceable to the day.
"Right. Show me the worst of it, Mags," I said, taking my shawl from my shoulders and wrapping it around my waist.
"We'll start with the cook," Maggie hissed in my ear, and I flinched.
"Second worst, in that case," I whispered back, eyeing the brawny old man pounding a cut of meat with a mallet in the corner of the room.
Maggie snickered and led me out of the kitchen. "Better give you a look at the linens."
The linens had been leftto molder, the wool blankets were moth eaten, the pantry and stables were both infested with mice, and there was a hole in the roof that was leaking into two of the guest rooms. Thankfully, not mine.
"I don't understand," I said to Maggie hours later as I watched men and women racing across the main floor and past me in the upper halls. "There's plenty of staff."
"Been no supervision, has there?" Maggie said with a shrug. "Not since the housekeeper left after the lady herself died."
The housekeeper had come to Grave Hills with Lachlan's omega, and had apparently been quite eager to leave after her mistress's passing. With no direction from the alpha in mourning, there was no one to replace her, not in any official capacity. The cook kept the kitchen and the stables managed themselves, but no one had offered to rise up in the maids. In fact, near as I could tell, most of the maids seemed to go to great lengths to undermine one another.
I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Maggie, who was looking smugly and cheerfully down at the activity of the keep. She'd dragged me from top to bottom, and while she was starting to look a little worn and her limp was showing more than it had at the start of the morning, she seemed bright-eyed and flushed with renewed energy.
"Could you manage them, Mags?" I asked gently.
I halfway expected the woman to jump at the chance, but she frowned at the question and gave it a good time to mull over.
"I expect I could. I've been a maid for two alphas and their omegas now, seen the keep at its best, I think. You'll find someone better suited to the work soon enough, but I won't shy from helping now."
I sighed and nodded. "Get us through the rut, at least," I said, and she hummed in agreement. "Bring any argument to me until they know better than to not listen to you."
I wasn't sure how long it would take for Torion's rut to take hold. He'd only just taken the mantle of alpha, and the general idea was that a new alpha was vulnerable for a time until their first rut, when the power truly set in. It was also said that a good omega could bring a rut on faster.
I wasn't sure what constituted a good omega, in spite of my claims to Torion that I was one. I'd been told I was when Iwas young—pretty and sweet and raised to manage a fine house. And for a time, Malcolm had shown himself as pleased with me, certainly long enough to woo and choose me, to rut me. But I imagined a good omega would be able to keep her beta's attention, keep him from straying to other women's company.
I knew better than to assume faithfulness now, but I had wrought the promise of children to love and a home to share with them from the alpha.
Maybe notwrought, I thought. He hadn't seemed to have any reservations when it came to agreeing to the deal.
Which was even more suspicious. If I'd asked him to keep only my company in bed, he'd no doubt have had more objections to give. Which is why I hadn't asked. Expecting indifference from the alpha was better than having my heart seduced by Malcolm once more. Having it broken again.
"I'd like to see the alpha's quarters. I have a nest to plan," I said, turning my mind back to the present.
Maggie smacked her lips and nodded, but asked, "Do you mean where he sleeps now, or where the alpha's meant to sleep?"
A strange flare of panic rose up in me, and I tamped it down quickly. "Meant to," I said. It was no business of mine where the alpha was sleeping. I'd promised him a son, and that meant we'd have to wait for his rut to arrive for any proper bedding to commence.
Malcolm had blamed our not waiting on why I'd failed to conceive a child during our first rut together. And I'd never told him the second had been a success, however briefly.
I followed Maggie down a central hallway and then up a spiraling set of stairs. There were two doors at the top landing, and she opened the one on the right.
As a heavy, oily scent hit my nose, mineral and dark, I realized what Maggie had meant when she said this was wherethe alpha, Torion, should be sleeping. This was his father's room. It was thick with an unpleasantly rich odor and lingering traces of something cloyingly sweet, like honeysuckle.
"Needs a bit of dusting," Maggie said.
Which was certainly true, with dust motes shining and passing by tall, sunny windows. It was a beautiful, large room, but I itched to back out the door. Being here with Torion would be too uncomfortable, the scents too strong. I couldn't build a nest here.
"It needs washed top to bottom." And I wasn't sure even that would do the trick. I backed up as I spoke and then jumped as a warm and heavy pair of hands settled on my shoulder.
"No." The word was hard, and Maggie, who'd ventured deeper into the space than I could stand to, startled with a squawk.
