The word jolts through the rest of our pack, and I’m honestly not sure he even realizes he said it. He’s looking entranced by the little omega in front of him.
We all are.
Courtland exhales hard beside me. Grieves murmurs something that sounds like a prayer. And I… I feel something inside me crack open.
Florence reaches up, fingers brushing the coronet lightly, as if it might disappear.
“Oh,” she whispers, cheeks pink and eyes shining, like she’s not sure how to respond to the prince’s murmured words. “I… Thank you.”
Episode 9: Mirror, Mirror
I’m in shock. Utter freaking shock.
I was certain they were going to send me home.
I mean, I was all but told that I would be. And yet I’m still here. With a weird gold plastic crown on my head like the other omegas and a bubbly mocktail in my hand, just staring across the expanse of the pool at the pack surrounded by other omegas.
They should have sent me home. Right?
I’m American.
Lower class.
No etiquette training.
I’m weird and unpolished compared to these other omegas.
They should have sent me home.
So why didn’t they?
The soft tread of bare feet on the tile reaches my ears and I look away from the pack to find Petal tip toeing toward me. Not like she’s being sneaky. More like she just naturally walks on her toes, leaning forward just slightly.
She gives me a smile when she comes to a stop next to me. “Are you as shocked as I am to still be here?” Her accent is softer than everyone else’s, smoothed out. But still there.
Though I realize with a start in this group, I’m actually the one with the accent. Me and the other two Americans. Well,one, now that Darla’s gone.
“I am,” I say with a nose wrinkle. “It's um… pretty clear that I’m the odd one out here.”
Petal nudges my shoulder. “Not so odd.” I give her a look and she giggles. “Okay, so most of us are Bravonnian. But I don’t think it's a bad thing for you to be here. Keeps it interesting.”
Her eyes flick toward my dress, and she gives a low appreciative hum. “Also, can we talk about that gown? Because you look incredible.”
I blink at her. “Oh. Thank you.” My fingers brush the skirt absently. “I made it.”
Her mouth drops open. “You did not.”
“I did,” I say, a little sheepish. “I, uh… sew. A little.” A lot, actually, but she doesn’t need to know that.
Petal lights up like I’ve handed her a secret. “That explains it. It fits you like itlikesyou, like it wants to hug you all the time. Like it was made for you, which of course it was!” She squints thoughtfully. “You should be proud. You don’t look like you’re trying to be anyone else.”
I’m sure she doesn’t mean it to be an insult, she’s too sweet for that. But it hits my already tender ego like one. A reminder that I’m not like the rest of them. Too different. Alien. Foreign.
Her shiny smile falls, a wrinkle forming between her brows like she can read that she hurt me but she doesn’t know how.
“So,” I say to distract from my slip. “Are you a noble lady?”
She smiles. “Will you hold it against me if I tell you yes?”
