“What came over you when you began screaming about apples?”
Woods froze. An odd expression appeared on his face, a mix of nostalgia and sadness—and very faintly, of hope. Woods stared at the table without seeing it. His mind was somewhere else, far away. With his beloved Bjorn, probably.
“Your Highness, what do you know about fated mates?” Woods asked quietly.
For his sake, I tried to stifle my scoff. “I know they’re about as likely to exist as a unicorn, Mr. Woods. Are there any other fairy tales you’d like to discuss or are we finished here?”
Woods was stoic. He wasn’t laughing. He wouldn’t even look at me, which angered me. If he was going to waste my precious time, he could at least face me while doing so.
But when he raised his eyes, slowly, the expression in them unnerved me. They shone with feverish belief and undying hope, as if the God of Fertility himself was going to walk right in the front door.
“You know the legend, do you not, highness?” Woods asked.
I bristled. Of course I knew the legend. He might as well have asked me if I knew the alphabet.
“Yes. The God of Fertility had a fated mate, the God of Virility. Together they created us, the people. Omegas, betas, and alphas.”
“That is the story, yes,” Woods said. “But there’s more to it than that.”
He stood and picked an ornate book from a shelf. He opened it to a specific page and set it in front of me. Two figures stood in front of a pomegranate tree, a common symbol for pregnancy in omegas. I recognized the God of Fertility, with his fantastical wolf-head and twin lines of nipples. Beside him was a similar wolf-beast, but larger, with a shaggier ruff of fur. Between his legs was a knotted penis. The mark of an alpha. The two were embracing, biting each other’s mouths.
“What exactly are you showing me, Mr. Woods?” I asked.
He pointed to the pomegranate tree in the picture. It was abundant with fruit. By the Gods’ feet was a split pomegranate, its red seeds spilling out. Woods began to speak.
“The legend states that the God of Fertility recognized his fated mate by the taste of his kiss. His favorite fruit was the pomegranate, as you know. So imagine his shock and joy to discover the God of Virility tasted of pomegranate. They knew at once their love was fated. When they consummated it, this ability passed down to their children, and all their descendants beyond.”
None of this moved me. It was a tale, and frankly, a silly one at that.
“Are you finished?” I asked.
A flicker of anger passed over Woods’ eyes before he remembered who he was talking to. He controlled himself.
“Bjorn tasted of apples,” he mumbled. “My favorite fruit.”
I might have laughed if he didn’t look so pathetic. It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard.
“I think we’re done here,” I said, standing up.
Woods half-heartedly escorted me to the door. I couldn’t bring myself to care about his lack of respect. He’d already debased himself enough for one day.
“Your Highness,” Woods said uneasily. “You won’t tell the King about this, will you?”
Poor Mr. Woods. As if he didn’t have enough problems already. “No.”
“Thank you.”
I left Woods behind, glad to wash my hands of him. As I walked away, I stroked Marianne on the head. She deserved a filet dinner for sitting silently through such drivel.
I paused by the open-air elevator near Woods’ home, the one used by the knight earlier. It led down to the middle quarter.
Curiosity tugged at me. Woods’ claims were ridiculous, but his explanation of the alpha market seemed genuine. I had little doubt such a place existed.
But claims weren’t enough. I wanted to see it for myself. It was part ofmyfuture kingdom, after all.
I entered the elevator with Marianne by my side and headed down into the middle quarter.
4
