My body moves on autopilot as I don a long navy dress and wind my hair into a quick bun, just enough to keep me from looking like I'm seconds from the madhouse.
When I'm ready, Kylian precedes down the hall in front of me and leads me to the study in my wing. He pushes open the door, and I startle to find the rest of Alpha Team X assembled around the room.
None of them have bothered to get dressed besides Luka, however. He's put on a quick polo and pants, but Ridge leans against my bookshelf without a shirt on, only wearing loose pajama pants that flow around his ankles, his bare feet on display. And Colter is stiffly intimidating as he stands behind my leather chair, despite the fact that he only wears a red skull mask and his black boxer briefs.
The guest chair in my office is filled, and the occupant swings around to see who's entered.
When Stefan realizes I've arrived, he rises, and I note the faint gleam of blue around his irises has dulled tonight before he bows his head respectfully.
Curious and cautious, I do the same before striding around to take my seat. Kylian takes up a post on my other side so that he and Colter flank me.
My hands fold together as I stare across my desk at this prince and fight to keep my expression serene. I wait for him to speak.
"Princess Brylee, I'd hoped to meet with your brother…"
"Well, unfortunately, he's a bit pissed at you, so you get to deal with me," I retort, savagely slashing at him with my gaze.
His nostrils flare, and his hands grip the armrests of his seat so hard that his knuckles pale. But he doesn't lash out like most alphas chastised by an omega would. And he doesn't lunge for me as Ridge clearly expected him to—my alpha's straightened and already taken two steps toward the prince.
Stefan stares down at the carpet, breathing slowly until he's regained his composure.
By the time he has, I've managed to plaster a prickly smile onto my face.
"I understand. I came to say that Pedro Agrios and his terrorist group do not represent?—"
A brittle laugh breaks free from my lungs. "I'm sorry. Are you trying to denounce him?"
"That attack wasn't sanctioned?—"
"Nothing that fuck did was ever sanctioned or on the books," I growl as I shoot up to my feet, fury winding around me like rope, abrading and burning as it pulls tight. "That bastard was your hatchet man. And I've met him. Three times. So don't bullshit me."
He stands, and my men crowd him as he leans forward and jabs his pointer finger into the desk. "I don't bullshit."
"Yeah, well, the cure for karkinos sure seems like you do," I retort, loathing the way my voice cracks at the end of the sentence.
"What does that mean?"
"What do you think? It's not working."
He pulls back, and his eyes scan mine. When his entire expression softens in sympathy, I have to tighten my stomach and clench my fists because I feel like I might burst apart.
"How far along is the alpha's case?"
"Far," I whisper, then immediately hate myself for showing this man any kernel of vulnerability, any hint of truth.
He gives a considering nod and steps back toward his chair, retaking his seat. "If you'll allow it, I'll request more be sent in. Enhanced doses."
My lips press together as I mull over his words. "If I'll allow it?"
"Yes. I came here tonight to reassure your brother of our commitment. To try to persuade him to keep the truce intact. And I won't be leaving. Either I'll stay as an ambassador and help negotiate peace. Or…he can decide that a royal life deserves a royal life."
My inhale is jagged and rough because the prince of Nóthos just pronounced himself our prisoner.
50
BRYLEE
The cathedral breathes.Not with life, but with the slow, frigid exhale of centuries—stone lungs contracting around us, trapping the chill until it becomes something almost sentient. It seeps through the soles of my heels, climbs the silk stockings I've pulled over my knees, and settles in my marrow like it owns the deed to my bones.
