"Feeling a bit like a pincushion, but I'll recover now," Brigid said. She slipped out of reach before I could enclose her in my arms again, stepping back in front of me and holding out her arms. "But how do I look?"
My one track mind—a track whose only goal was being near Brigid again—took too long to put the pieces together, and Brigid started to fidget, smoothing her hands over her dress and plucking at the skirts.
"One of the maids will have to manage my hair, of course," she said, eyes darting over my shoulder.
Pins in the carriage, a school marm woman talking about fittings and?—
I shook myself. The dress! She was wearing a new dress, one that'd been finished as recently as the carriage ride.
"You look magnificent," I said, hurrying to cover my blunder. Brigid huffed and rolled her eyes. "You do! Regal."
Her cheeks pinked, and I guessed I was on the right track. I took a step closer to her, catching her chin in a gentle grip. The words weren't lies, even if it didn't matter a whit to me what Brigid wore as long as she was within reach. But the rust red dress was fitted perfectly—my compliments to Mistress Baird—and draped over her shoulders and around her waist, adding to curves I already loved so much, were two of the Feargus tartans, one new and in our hunting colors of brown and green with thin stripes of red and blue, and the other my mother's embellished dress tartan.
"You represent me well, Omega Feargus," I said, because I liked the way it felt to put my family name on her.
Brigid sighed at that and offered me a real smile, although there was something still skittish in her gaze that worried me.
"How long do we have?" Brigid asked, glancing over her shoulder to the road that lead to the keep.
"A handful of hours, and that's if no one arrives early," I said, recalling why I'd brought Brigid back to the keep.
"They will, no doubt," she said drily, catching my arm to slip hers through, turning and guiding me back inside.
"No doubt," I agreed, swallowing hard as Brigid nodded and smiled to the keep staff as she directed us both toward the stairs.
Brigid leaned more solidly into my side, tipping her head to my shoulder and lowering her voice. "Still. That might be enough time for us to—Torion!"
I laughed as she screeched, my arms scooping beneath her legs, my own carrying us up the stairs two at a time. "Oh plenty of time for…" I trailed off meaningfully and waggled my eyebrows.
"I was beingsubtle," Brigid hissed.
"There's nothing subtle about it when I'll have you screaming my name in under ten minutes," I answered, rushing for the bedroom. It was about damn time I had my omega back in our bed. Any betas who arrived early would just have towait.
"Respectfully,Alpha Feargus, you don't seem to be taking this meeting very seriously," Francis Keane bit out.
Considering I caught myself smiling lazily for no reason at all, I couldn't exactlyblameKeane for calling me out, even I questioned his motives. Stifling my expression once mor and attempting to shake off some of the drowsy satisfaction still lingering in my body after my reunion with Brigid, I narrowed my eyes on Keane before slowly circling them around the table at the other betas. We were holding our assembly in the library,a room that had been closed for a number of years, neglected by my parents disinterest. There'd been some damage from a cracked window, but Brigid had arranged for the repairs before the rut. With the work complete, the room was restored to its former grandeur, ceiling beams elaborately carved, windows paned with stained glass, a fireplace roaring at the far end. Rather than refurnish it with sofas and work tables, Brigid had instructed the staff to bring out one of the grand tables and turn the space into a meeting room for me. Clever witch.
I opened my mouth to respond to Keane, when I was swiftly interrupted.
"Respectfully, Beta Keane, some of the gentlemen here have brought rather pathetic complaints to our alpha."
I stirred in my seat, startled by the speech of support. There were new faces here for the first time in decades—younger dragons who'd climbed in stature since my untraditional twist on the selection ceremony. Samuel Cameron sat bristling at the far end of the table, his young face red with either temper or embarrassment or both, his eyes shooting daggers at many of the older betas. Cameron was the beta chosen by the wealthy omega Emily Anderson, and it hadn't taken long for the young man's transformation to take place, from a rough and unfinished lad to a gentleman of consequence. While I'd had some part in that transformation—namely, making sure the farm he'd inherited from his uncle got as much support and staff as it needed for repairs—I hadn't expected a show of loyalty.
"Pathetic?!" Lord McKinney squawked, hands slapping against the table.
"Tenancies that have gone all but fallow in the past two decades are now already restored and on schedule for harvesting," Cameron said, bucking his chin at the older man. "Local merchants are happy. One man I know even called his son home from Skybern in expectation of better trade and needinghelp. All in a few months of our alpha's reign. And yet you speak to him of poor weather, felled trees, and a missing sheep or two, as if these are things any man might control."
A few men shifted in their seats, perhaps chastised, but one halfway down the table turned his face to the back of the room and muttered under his breath. I only made out the words "his witch" and "omega," but the men around him froze with nerves. I took a moment to recall the man's name as the ripple seemed to circle around the table of betas.
"My omega is a healer, not a witch. Although I tease her often enough about her enchanting nature," I said, clearly and steadily. Superstitions were for old women and children, in my opinion, but even those who didn't believe might take up a rumor for the sake of ugliness.
"She may be nothing more than an omega, my lord, but you allow her to set a poor example for our daughters," Ben Danielson said. He was not a beta I knew well, but he was also not a recent thorn in my side, so I met his gaze and braced myself.
"In what way?" I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.
"Her leash is a little long, don't you think?" Francis Keane asked, eyebrows raising and turning to look around the table. "Out there alone in that ramshackle cottage, acting like some kind of changeling creature?"
In spite of the concerning turn of the conversation, I found my lips quirking at that depiction of Brigid. "Omega Feargus is, as you all saw today, here at the keep. She is also the most practical person I have ever met in my life, and as such, takes her responsibilities to both me, and her former community while she lived independently, with the utmost seriousness. She has her own property to care for, but she by no means neglects her role at my side."
