My grandmother gives me an unwavering look. “You have a duty to your family, Forsythe. To your crown. I expect you to do it. No matter the cost.”
“You knew, didn’t you?” I ask, stumbling back a step and staring with dawning horror at my grandmother. “You knew who she was to us, and you still demanded we send her home.”
If she didn’t deem it undignified, I’m certain my grandmother would have shrugged just now. “Why else would I demand you do it before the scenting ceremony? I knew if you caught a whiff of that trumped up little tart you’d forget your duty to me, to the country and throw it all away on her.”
Throwwhataway?I wonder. Fated mates are revered in our world. In every world. In every country. They’re seen as a blessing. Something to be cherished. No one would have faulted me for choosing Florence once I realized. The country likely would have seen it as a sign that the Ashbournes are blessed.
But that didn’t fit in with what she wanted, what she needed. Her vision for the country. For her family.
I shake my head at her, disappointment thick in my blood.
This is my grandmother. A woman who is supposed to love me, support me, want the best for me, and she can’t find it in her heart to do any of that. She only wants to shape me into something that can be of service to her, a tool for her to use.
No more.
Never again.
My back straightens and I smooth out my jacket more from habit than a need to be tidy. “Florence is my mate. She will be my omega. As of this moment, my betrothal to Isadora is null and void. I will not bond her. I will not marry her. I will not bend to you.”
“Forsythe,” my grandmother bites out. “You will regret making such a rash decision. A girl such as her will not be able to understand the needs of the crown, of the country. She will only hinder our progress.”
“Progress?” I bark out a laugh. “What progress would that be? The progress of the law you just forced through, using thespectacle of a reality dating show for cover? The law that takes us back fifty years or more? That’s the progress Florence would hinder?” The smile I give her is sharp and like no smile I’ve ever given to my grandmother before. “Well, then, I say bring on the hindrance. Maybe my omega can help us get back to the time when omegas were seen as people and not as commodities to be monitored.”
I don’t wait for a response. I have no need for one. Instead I turn, heading for the door that leads to the hallway rather than the ballroom, eager to get away, to get back to my pack, my omega.
“You’re going to regret this,” she grinds out after me.
“Maybe,” I say with my hand on the doorknob. “But I doubt it.”
I slip into the hall at a brisk pace, my feet all but flying over the plush carpeting. As I emerge from the palace, I marvel at the weight that has dropped from my shoulders. As I climb into my waiting car, I feel as though I’m floating, lighter than air.
I hadn’t realized how heavily I felt my grandmother’s expectations, her needs, her wants.
But now, as I make my way back to my omega, I see it. The way I was tied down, by them, by her.
But now I’m finally free.
Episode 27: The Queen of Mean
Florence
My pillow smells is moving. Not only that, but it’s trying to slip out from underneath me.
I let out a sleepy hum and tighten my arms around it, holding tight. A low chuckle greets me. “Don’t want to let me go,cor mea?”
Forsythe. The sound of his voice, rumbling directly into my ear, has my eyelids fluttering but not opening all the way.
He wasn’t here when I went to sleep last night.
Everyone else was tucked up in my bed around me, but Forsythe was at the palace with his grandmother and Elizabeth—who I still haven’t met yet—and Isadora.
I didn’t hear him join us, didn’t feel the rest of the pack shift to give him space.
“I didn’t even know you were here,” I murmur, without opening my eyes. He goes still. Then sighs, pulling me up his chest until I’m laying on top of him.
“Cor mea, look at me.” I do, resting my chin on his chest as he smooths my hair over my shoulder. “I am here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
One corner of my mouth ticks up and he pushes his thumb into it. “But you were trying to leave, trying to sneak out first thing in the morning.”
