Snow studies her stepmother. “The mirror is gone?”
“One of my mates put his fist through it.”
A small smile tugs at Snow’s lips. “Good. It was evil.”
“It was.” Hilda takes a breath. “I want you to know you’re safe. You’re free to live your life however you choose. If you want to stay in the castle, you can. If you want to leave, you have my blessing and my support. And if anyone ever tries to hurt you…” She glances back at us. “Well. You have three very protective wolves who will handle it.”
Damn right we will. Our omega cares about this girl. That makes her pack-adjacent. We protect what’s ours.
Snow is quiet for another moment. Then she does something unexpected.
She closes the distance between them and hugs Hilda.
Our omega freezes, clearly shocked. Then, slowly, carefully, she hugs the girl back.
“Thank you,” Snow whispers. “For apologizing. For letting me go. For… being honest.”
When they separate, both of them have tears in their eyes.
Snow clears her throat. “A prince has been visiting. He’s from the neighboring kingdom. He’s… kind. And he asked if he could court me.”
“Do you want him to?” Hilda asks gently.
“I think so,” the girl replies with a shy smile.
Hilda doesn’t hesitate. “You have my blessing and my wishes for your happiness. If he treats you well, if he makes you happy, then I’m glad for you.”
Snow smiles big and bright. “Thank you.”
They talk for a few more minutes…about the prince, about Snow’s plans, about the future. It’s… strange, watching our omega make peace with the girl she wanted dead less than a week ago.
But it’s right. This is who Hilda really is, underneath the poison. Kind. Caring. Generous.
Our perfect omega.
When they finally part, Hilda returns to us. I immediately pull her close, needing to touch her, to reassure myself she’s safe.
“That went well,” she says quietly, still smiling, eyes welled.
“You did good, omega,” Arkan says, kissing her temple.
“She deserved the truth.” Hilda leans into me, resting her head on my chest, letting me carry her weight. “And I needed to say it. To let go.”
Baylin nuzzles her other side. “Not the Evil Queen anymore.”
“No,” she agrees softly, smiling. “Just the queen.”
“Just our queen,” I add.
We start walking back toward the royal chambers.
More people stare and trip on their feet as they bow when we pass them. Word is spreading. The Queen has changed. The Queen has mates.
“They’re going to talk,” Hilda observes, letting out a small, unsure laugh.
“Let them,” I reply. “You’re ours. They can adjust or fuck off.”
This time her laugh is loud and full. “Very diplomatic.”
