The Queen Mother studies him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “I’m surprised you’ve managed to maintain your charade for so long,” she says finally. “Most would have been discovered years ago.”
Cillian goes perfectly still beside me, his body tensing in a way I’ve come to recognize as dangerous. “My apologies if the subterfuge is offensive to you, Your Highness.”
The Queen Mother laughs, the sound surprisingly warm in the formal setting. “No apologies needed. I’m simply at a loss to figure out how my idiot grandson managed to find two Omegas worthy of my precious time.”
“Thank you—” I start, but she quickly interrupts.
“I’m also left to decide whether either of you could possibly be worth the risk Logan is taking.”
“The risk he’s taking?” I repeat, unable to keep the incredulity from my voice. “I’m the one who spent a year being cut open by your son’s pet monster. I’m the one who had a bond forced on me without consent. I’m the one who?—“
“Yes, yes,” she interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. “Your suffering has been considerable, I’m sure. But personal trauma, however significant, is irrelevant in the larger game we’re playing. What matters is whether you have the strength and intelligence to be a true ally in this rebellion, or whether you’re simply a liability my grandson is dragging along out of misplaced guilt or possessiveness.”
The casual dismissal of everything I’ve endured leaves me momentarily speechless. Before I can formulate a response that won’t result in me being thrown out of the palace, Cillian speaks.
“Maya is neither a liability nor a victim to be pitied,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet authority I’ve rarely heard from him. “She survived a year under Thane’s knife without breaking. She escaped on her own initiative. She killed him before he could do the same to both of us. And she’s chosen to stay and fight rather than flee to safety when given the option.”
The Queen Mother’s expression doesn’t change, but something in her eyes shifts—a reassessment, perhaps. “Is thattrue?” she asks me directly. “You had the chance to run, and you chose to stay?”
I nod, finding my voice again. “I could have left Melilla. Gone somewhere beyond the king’s reach. But I chose to stay and fight.”
“Why?” The question is simple but weighted with significance.
I consider my answer carefully, aware suddenly that I’m being tested. “Because running doesn’t solve the problem,” I say finally. “It just leaves it for someone else to deal with. And because I’ve seen what the king is capable of. What they’re planning with these fertility clinics. I couldn’t live with myself if I turned my back on that.”
The Queen Mother studies me for a long moment, her golden eyes unreadable. Then she nods once, a sharp movement that seems to settle something in her mind.
“Very well,” she says. “I believe you may indeed be worth the risk after all. God help you.”
Before I can decide if this is a compliment or a warning, she turns her attention back to Cillian.
“You understand, of course, that almost any other of the king’s sons would have put you down like a dog the moment they discovered what you are,” the Queen Mother says to Cillian, changing the subject with jarring abruptness. “A male Omega masquerading as a Beta in the royal court? The scandal alone would have been enough to warrant execution.”
“Logan is not like his brothers,” Cillian replies with enough conviction it’s obvious he believes it.
The Queen Mother’s lips curve in a smile that contains genuine amusement. “No, he is not,” she agrees. “I would hardly be hosting his Omegas if he were.”
“Your Highness,” Cillian says, his voice carefully neutral. “May I ask why you’ve agreed to help us? The risk to yourself is considerable.”
The Queen Mother’s expression shifts, something harder and colder settling over her features. “The king—my own son--has forgotten the lessons he should have learned about wielding power responsibly. He has become...unstable. Cruel in ways that serve no purpose beyond his own gratification. The fertility clinics are merely the latest evidence of his deterioration.”
She leans forward slightly, her golden eyes intense. “I have lived long enough to see what happens when man’s reach exceeds his grasp. I have no desire to watch my son destroy everything I helped to build. If Logan represents a better alternative, then I will support his claim to the throne.”
“Even if it means civil war?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.
“Even then,” she confirms, her voice steady. “Some prices are worth paying if it means doing what is right.
The casual way she discusses potential bloodshed sends a chill through me. This woman, with her perfect posture and elegant gown, is prepared to see the kingdom tear itself apart if it means her grandson sits on the throne instead of her son.
“Now,” she says, rising from the sofa with surprising grace for a woman her age, “I believe we’ve covered the essentials for today. You must be tired from your journey. My staff will show you to your quarters, where you can rest before dinner.”
The dismissal is clear, but I have one more question I need answered. “Your Highness,” I say, standing as well. “What happens now? How long do we stay here? When do the others join us?”
The Queen Mother pauses, studying me with those sharp golden eyes. “You will remain here until I deem it safe for you to leave,” she says, her tone making it clear this is not up fordebate. “As for your pack—they will arrive when they arrive. If they arrive at all. Your arrival here will not have gone entirely unnoticed by the king’s men. The journey will likely not be as simple for Logan and the others.”
The implication that the others might not make it—might be captured or killed before reaching the palace—sends a fresh wave of anxiety through me. But before I can press for more information, she continues.
“In the meantime, you will be my guests. You will be provided with everything you need, and you will not leave the palace grounds without my express permission.” Her gaze shifts to Cillian. “That includes you, Cillian. Omega or not, you are the only man who has ever been allowed to reside in the summer palace. Do not make me regret breaking with tradition.”
