How could I tell him the truth when it sounded like a ridiculous fantasy? Would he assume I was lying to his face and get upset with me? What if he thought I was mentally unstable and unfit for the throne?
“Sebastian,” he said gravely. “I gave birth to you. There is nothing you cannot tell me.”
I inhaled a deep breath and steadied myself.
“He tasted like fruit,” I said softly. “Peaches, to be precise.”
It flashed across Father’s face—a moment of pure panic—before he masked it with his usual calm façade. But it was too late. I had already seen it. It put me on edge. What was he hiding?
“I see,” Father said without a scrap of worry in his voice. “Perhaps you were right. The physician must have missed something. I will summon another.”
The bottom fell out of my stomach. I stared back at him. All the trust I felt towards him drained away, leaving me intensely suspicious. I wished I hadn’t said anything.
“That’s all right,” I said, careful to keep my tone as neutral as his own. “I suspect I just have a fever. I’m going to rest today. Please don’t let me be disturbed.”
I left his chamber and returned to my room as quickly as possible without rousing attention. My heart raced. The panic on Father’s face was real. But why? I hadn’t done anything wrong and—I had to grudgingly admit—neither did Rourke. He did what I asked of him, which was to kiss me.
I shivered at the memory.
That deep ache flared up, making me dig my nails into my arms. Thismusthave something to do with Rourke. He’d put some kind of terrible curse on me. I hoped he was rotting in that dog cage.
I wondered if he was hungry. It had only been one night. Would Melchom give me an update soon?
In any case, I needed to get out of the palace. I didn’t trust Father right now, but I couldn’t go to Rourke either. Getting my brothers involved was out of the question. Neither of them were mature enough to handle this situation.
I clenched my fists. There was only one man I could think of who would be of use to me, and he was the last person I wanted to see.
* * *
With my faithfulGracehound by my side, I knocked on the door. It opened to a red-faced Eugene Woods, who looked like he wanted to jab my eyes out with a fork. The feeling was mutual. I lifted a finger to cut him off before he even began speaking.
“I know you don’t like Marianne, and I don’t care,” I said. “But do know that if you attempt to assault me again, shewillbite your arm off.”
Woods’s eye twitched. “What do you want, Your Highness?”
“I only want to talk. Do you think you can manage that without flying off the handle?”
“I don’t want to speak to—”
I cut him off. “And if you’re helpful enough, I might let you see Bjorn.”
That stopped Woods dead in his tracks. His eyes widened and his expression went soft with longing.
“Are you serious?” he murmured.
“Yes. You have my word,” I promised. “In fact, why don’t we go right now? There’s something I wish to see for myself.”
Woods blinked. “Er, but Your Highness, I’m under house arrest.”
I waved it off. “You’re with me. I give you permission to leave today. Oh, and bring that dingy old fable book along, would you?”
Woods brightened, then hurried inside, nearly tripping over himself as he snatched the book in question.
* * *
The pathetic omegawas practically vibrating with excitement as we reached the alpha market. I marched up to the front desk with Marianne at my side while Woods trembled behind me.
“Bring out the alpha known as Bjorn,” I ordered.
