“A million dollars.”
“What?” I nearly choke on my tongue at the audacity.
She sniffs. “You heard me. I will give you a million dollars to leave my grandson. That is more than enough to give you a pleasant life, is it not? You could pay off your mother’s debts, send your little sister to the best schools.” The mention of my family has the hair on the back of my neck prickling. Hadn’t Forsythe told me part of the reason they’d sent me home from the show was because she’d threatened my family? Is that what she’s doing now?
Even if she is, my answer is the same. “No.”
“Two million.”
“No.”
“Three-”
“No! There is no amount of money that would be enough to make me give up my fated pack. It's pretty clear you don’t value those types of bonds as much as I do, but I am telling youno. No, there is nothing you could offer me to make me leave them. The only way that happens is iftheytell me that is what they want.”
There’s a lengthy pause where we glare at each other, where she realizes I am not going anywhere, because my pack will never ask me to leave. Ever.
Not even her princely grandson.
“You will never be a princess,” she says this solemnly, like a vow, like she is making that promise to herself, like she expects that to wreck me.
“Oh no,” I say in mock sadness. “Whatever will I do with my wide collection of tiaras and ballgowns?” I snort. “I’ve managed my entire life not being a princess, I’m sure I’ll be just fine without a title. You on the other hand…” She stiffensmeeting my gaze head on. “Things aren’t looking great for you are they?”
She sniffs, regally. “I have no idea what you mean.”
I laugh, short and sharp. “That little stunt you pulled with the Omega Welfare Act? People aren’t as dumb as you thought they were, are they? They can all see this for what it is, not an act of a benevolent ruler, intent on keeping her people safe. But a desperate grab for more power, more control.”
“You should have more respect,” she snaps, her royal veneer cracking, just like Forsythe’s does when I push back a little too hard.
“I see no one in this room worthy of my respect.” I take one step toward her and am not at all surprised to find that she’s taller than me, even at her advanced age. She is after all an alpha. One that hides behind a grandmotherly veneer, but an alpha, nonetheless. “If you want my respect, you don’t get to just demand it. You have to earn it. And nothing in your actions has proven to me that you are worthy. You were born into a royal bloodline? Big fucking deal. Show me where that means you’re a good person.” I take a deep steadying breath, trying and failing to cool my fury at this woman. “You are manipulative. You are uncaring. You have worked endlessly to ensure that your grandson remains under your thumb, even if that means he’s unhappy.”
She opens her mouth like she might deny that, but I will not give her a chance. I don’t want to hear her justifications for her actions. “He found his fated mate and rather than celebrate it, embrace this wonderful, beautiful thing that is between us, he’s struggled to find a way to have me and keep you happy. How is that right? You should be happy. You should be thrilled we found each other, and instead you’ve done everything you can to keep us apart.”
“You think I should be happy?” she says, steel lacing her tone. “You think I should rejoice that the fates have paired my grandson with someone so far beneath him? You aren’t even fit to shine his shoes, let alone walk next to him. You are so obviously wrong for him, for this country. Of course I could not celebrate it. If he’d been fated to any one of the Bravonnian nobles, I would have. But you? A poor American. A failed dancer. A bank teller? No. I could never celebrate that. And Bravonne will not either.”
I think she’s wrong about that. In the last few days, I’ve seen the true hearts of the Bravonnian people. While there are a fair number of them that believe the pack choosing Isadora over their fated mate is more romantic, more of them are rooting for fate to win.
But I don’t tell her that. Instead I lean in closer to her, letting every ounce of my fury and determination show on my face. “If that’s the case, then I suppose Bravonne isn’t the place for me after all.”
She grins like she thinks she’s won something, like she sees that as an admission of my leaving my pack. I’m quick to relieve her of that notion. “I guess, we’ll just have to go back to America. Build a life there. Me and my pack.”
“You’re a fool if you think Forsythe will leave his country for you.”
I scoff and shake my head. “And you’re a fool if you think he wouldn’t.”
There’s a long silence during which she looks down her nose at me, the gears of her brain whirring as she recalculates, finding her new angle. After a moment, she sighs and nods, as though she’s weary of me. Which she probably is.
“I really do think it best if you leave the pack, andgo home, Florence.”The bark is woven into the sentence so innocuouslythat anyone who was listening, anyone it wasn’t pointed to, might not realize it was a command.
But I do. I feel it. The queen’s dominance shivers over my skin, settles in my bones. I have the urge to leave the apartment, to get on a plane, to fly back to Granton.No. No.I don’t want that. I want to stay.
But it doesn’t matter because the queen does want it. And no matter what Thayer and Forsythe told me, no matter how we played with my omega’s bark, something tells me the Queen of Bravonne isn’t going to bow to me.
Go home.The command pulses in me.
Go home.
Go home.
