“I don’t think anything can, Wyatt, but…” Even I couldn’t admit it. A royal omega from such an allied country would go far. “Aurelia Seymour will come close, yes. So let’s hope for her.”
Bastion doesn’t look convinced. “Don’t you all want to pick an omega based on love and caring for her?”
“Because that worked so well the first time,” I reply.
Wyatt’s jaw locks hard. “Charlotte?—”
“Fucked us over,” Bastion cuts in over Wyatt, as he should. He was the one burned hardest by her. “So yes, we learned the hard way. Let the Council decide. Your father’s probably already in talks to have Aurelia Seymour selected for Everhart, Ranier. So let’s just let it be this year.”
“And if we aren’t given Aurelia Seymour?” Wyatt asks. “I know you like her hair and brilliant smile, but Emery Grey isn’t nobility.”
“We’re rejecting for another year,” I reiterate. “It’s for the best with everything going on.” I’m taking over more royal duties. Bastion needs to get far more sober in his day-to-day life. Wyatt needs to grow the fuck up. But I don’t need to say this laundry list when people in our lives—like Helena—say it enough. “Next year, that’s our year.”
I say it, but it doesn’t feel right. It feels like everything is suddenly on edge and I can’t make it stop.
Sometimes I wonder what non-royal life would be like and consider running toward it with nothing but the clothes on my back. But then I remember every lesson and hour my parents have put into preparing me to take over for the family and I know, I have no choice.
This is my life, and Everhart Pack is my only outlet.
CHAPTER 3
Emery
It’snothing like the images online onRoyals Anonymous, or the stories whispered in the blue-lit dorm rooms at finishing school. Ravencroft Hall is larger, older, and infinitely more alive. Each cobblestone on the welcoming path to the atrium pulses with history. Every inch feels sacred to everything about the life of royals with an alpha or omega designation. The silhouette of the hall rises above it all and is something from a fairytale.
One with sharp teeth.
Eloise is at my elbow, nudging me with her bony shoulder as her car idles at the curb. “Your hands are shaking,” she whispers, peeling my fingers from the edge of my coat.
I want to say it’s the cold but my skin burns.
Eloise checks her phone to make sure we’re not late and touches up her up-do. “It’s going to be okay, Emery. None of them can honestly look at you and not see a beautiful omega so very ready to join a pack.”
I give her a soft smile that I don’t really feel and exit her car. Eloise does the same, and then all too soon a valet drives off with my only real escape from today.
We’re not escaping.My nerves are high, but this is my dream. And I’m going to get the fairytale I’ve been training for.
We head up to the entry gates of Ravencroft Hall and enter into the atrium. A tide of voices, perfume, and heat overwhelms us, but I take it in stride. My smile grows wider.
This is it.
Eloise loops her arm with mine and we walk past other omegas and their families. I try not to stare at the crowd, especially the royal omegas weaving within other finishing school graduates like me, but I can’t help it. Socialites in silk, their hair twisted into perfect glossy loops. Royal alphas in perfect rows, backs against the wall, watching the room like it’s a territory map. Families eager to see their lines joined as new packs are made.
A royal tradition for countless generations.
I studied hard in finishing school to be able to recognize the royal omegas and alphas here today. Between our coursework and the Royals Anonymous blog, I feel like I know everyone’s stories—both what’s public and what’s only rumored. It feels a bit like walking past a fishbowl you’re about to jump into. I have to wonder if the royal alphas look into eligible omegas as much as the finishing school preps us.
I wonder which version, if any, of myself is circulating the room ahead of my appearance. Probably “the commoner with the cotton-candy-colored hair and not a penny to her name.”
Eloise leans in and whispers in a sing-song voice, “Stop staring.”
“I can’t help it.” Especially not once my mind clings to every comparison where I fall short. My dress is nowhere near as expensive as the ones the other omegas wear. My make-up is an off brand. I had training at the finishing school, but these royal omegas were born into all of this. They have the upper-hand in almost every way.
I swallow hard and pause my steps. Eloise won’t have any of it. Without saying anything, she leads me further intoRavencroft Hall toward where the actual Selection proceedings will be in short order.
The ballroom is lit by several crystal chandeliers strung along the ceiling like a constellation. Waiters weave through with trays, and as I watch, an omega in shimmering gold throws back a flute of something pink and immediately flushes red. Her alpha prince or lord escorts her to the corridor, one hand pressed to the small of her back. The rest of the pack follows at a polite distance, ignoring the stares. For a moment, I imagine myself in her place, and my knees buckle—stupid, but the thought alone is enough to tighten every inch of my skin.
Along with the more wholesome parts of having a pack, things I very much desire are also the decidedlynotso wholesome parts. The heat-easing. The fantasies I’ve made of myself with a whole pack of alphas…
