“Okay?” I ask, glancing at her still sleepy face.
She nods. “Yeah, just… I’m halfway expecting to be accosted by a paparazzi or something.”
I draw up short, turning to face her, to cup her cheeks and make sure I have her full attention. I search her expression, but eventually I just shake my head and ask, “Do they bother you that much?”
Her sneaker scuffs against the cement. “I mean, yeah. It does. Of course it does. You guys might be used to it, but I’m … It's weird to have random people come up to you on the street, snap a picture and then sell it for thousands of dollars. You know? That’s not normal, Court.”
I nod. “Yeah, I know, Pix. I’d tell you you get used to it, but… you really don’t. It gets to the point where you either embrace it-”
“Like you.”
“- or you just glare at everyone-”
“Like Grieves.”
“-and eventually they learn to not approach you.” I stare at her hard, and she gently carefully rubs her thumb between my brows, smoothing the furrow there. “Is the attention enough for you to not want this? To not want us?”
A sad sounding sigh gusts out of her. “Oh, Court. There’s nothing in the world that would keep me from wanting you. It's written in my bones, that wanting. But I cannot—will not— be hidden.” The corner of her lips tips up. “It’s a weird place to be. I think maybe I wouldn’t mind the attention so much, if we were facing them as a pack, you know? Bonded. Or at the very least having already chosen each other. But right now… it feels a little like we’re doing something wrong. Like we’re sneaking around behind Isadora’s back.”
We are. We absolutely are.
We could have brought Ren to the palace, could have installed her in our suite, could have proudly declared that she’s our fated mate and we will not be parted from her, but instead we did this.
Put her in a flat a few blocks away. Tucked her up safe and sound, out of the way. Where Isadora and the queen aren’t likely to run into her.
Just like she was worried we’d be doing.
Fuck. How is she still even here? Why is she?
I’m going to fix this.
I blow out a breath, slide my hands from her cheeks, down her neck, her shoulders, her arms until I’m holding both of her hands in mine. I start walking backward bringing her with me. “We aren’t trying to keep you hidden, Pix,” I tell her in all honesty. “We’re trying to keep you safe. And there is a difference.”
“I know, pretty boy.”
I grin at her use of my nickname and quicken my steps the slightest bit. Eager to show her what I woke her up so early for. We continue hand in hand, through the oldest buildings of the city, until we reach a familiar street, a familiar structure, a familiar locked gate.
From this side--the servant’s entrance of old--it’s hard to tell this is the palace. It just looks like any other stone building in the area, but Ren still pulls up short. “Court? Where is this? Where are we?”
I’m not going to lie to her, so I just toss a grin over my shoulder and drag her toward the locked iron gate, using my free hand to pull the key from my pocket. “It took me bloody ages to get this key, to allow me to slip in and out without anyone noticing. But I had to have an exit plan, a way to slip away without the slew of guards Grieves would have made me take.” I push open the gate and motion for her to precede me.
She doesn’t, standing stubbornly on the sidewalk as she glares at me.
“Pretty boy, did you wake me up at this ungodly hour to break into the palace?”
I roll my eyes and move behind her, nudging her through the entrance. “It's not breaking in if I have the key. Besides, I live here. It's my house as much as it is Queen Katherine’s.” Ren makes a choked noise of disbelief. “Okay, not as much as it is hers,” I concede turning back to secure the gate, and then moving my omega forward. She digs in her heels the tiniest bit and then gives in.
“If I get arrested for this I will never forgive you.”
I snort. “Please you would never see the inside of a jail cell. Forsythe would sweep in before it even got close to that.”
She makes a sound, tiny and a little wounded, that tells me she doesn’t believe me. And not for the first time, I curse Forsythe and his damn inability to see what’s right there in front of him, just waiting for him to get his shit together.
He’s been all but absent since we got back to Bravonne. Off attending royal meetings with dignitaries and the queen. I suspect he’s seen Isadora a few times as well, though he hasn’t said as much. But he’s entered Ren’s flat a few times with hishair wet and different clothes from when he left in the morning. If I’ve noticed, Ren definitely has. And she gets a little smaller each time.
The rest of us are trying to make up for it, but if the prime can’t get his head out of his arse and realize that Ren is the only omega for us, then there isn’t really any hope.
She won’t stay for part of a pack.
