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Shelby’s smile was as warm as the first one she’d given me on the beach, reminding me of Sloane all over again. An uncomfortable longing I didn’t want to examine wedged itself under my sternum, clogging my throat. A longing for Sloane, to see her again, keep her safe, make sure she’d not been harmed. And also a longing to not have this deadline looming, knowing that everything happening now wouldn’t matter in another week. It brought up way too memories of being pulled from a family that seemed to really get me just to end up back with someone else who didn’t care nearly as much as they should.

“If that’s what you want, we can stay here.”

I swallowed down everything roiling and whispered, “Thank you,” before letting my eyes fall closed.

It was easier to ask questions when I wasn’t looking at either of them.

“Will we leave in the morning even if the others haven’t gotten here?”

There was movement, but I didn’t open my eyes. A weight settled at my feet, one of them sitting on the other side of the sofa.

“No,” Amaria said, closer to my head. She must have settled into the chair instead. “He won’t travel without you until we get to Starguard now that we’re out of the mountains.”

I frowned. “Why?”

There was a long pause.

“Because you’re already needing his scent to keep you calm,” Amaria said. “It might mean that your heat is close. If it presents before we’re able to get to Starguard in another week, he’ll need to help you through it.”

I frowned.

Heat? She couldn’t possibly mean like a…

I cut the thought off. No way was I about to compare myself to a dog. Not with memories of the foster homes swirling. The line of comparison there was thin enough as it was.

I rubbed my eyes, still aching even with them closed.

“I don’t understand,” I finally admitted, too close to a pout for my dignity. I’d be embarrassed in the morning. “I’m really tired of not understanding.”

A hand circled my wrist for a long moment before the touch disappeared altogether.

No explanation seemed to be imminent. Maybe it wasn’t something they were supposed to talk about? Maybe it was something for Callum to explain? I changed the subject as the silence grew heavy.

“What happens if Sloane doesn’t want to leave?”

She was so whimsical, I wouldn’t put it past her to fall in love with wherever place she’d ended up. She did that everywhere we went. Even Maine. And given how long we’d been here? There was no way she hadn’t done the math and realized we probably wouldn’t have much more than a notice of late bills waiting for us at home. This might be the time when she decided to actually build roots in a place she found interesting instead of wanting to return to the apartment.

The silence this time was charged. I slowly peeled my eyes open, my vision a little blurry. Amaria indeed sat in the chair near my head, a heavy frown on her face. She finished folding a piece of clothing and set it on the saddlebag now at her feet. It wasn’t the one Shelby had brought in. Where had she gotten a second bag?

The question fell away as Amaria sighed.

“It won’t matter,” she said. “The Grand Rite has very clear rules, the most important of which is that it is a tradition rooted in consent. Freia might have been the goddess to intervene in the Great War, but that doesn’t mean Persynthia had no influence. And, among her many tenets, Persynthia values and upholds choice.”

“Every alpha who chooses to participate,” Shelby said, “must do so out of their own willingness to enter a marriage blessed by Freia. It is no light event. Freian-sanctified marriages are deeper than a traditional union and last until death.”

Amaria nodded. “And the same is expected of the omegas. They are brought in differently than the alphas, but every single omega gets to make the choice if they want to proceed with participating. You and your sister were given no such choice. You were unable to consent.”

That longing twisted into something more acidic. “What if it’s not possible to get us back to Arizona?”

Shelby cleared her throat, and her answer was more hesitant than I’d ever heard her. “We… we don’t know what happens then.”

Damn it.

“Do you want to get out of your stays?” she asked after a minute.

“Yes, but I think I’m too tired to sit up,” I admitted.

Amaria’s lips flicked up in a small half-smile. She pulled the jar of fire from over her shoulder, setting it beside the new saddlebag. Then she stood from the chair and pulled the hem of Callum’s sweater high enough to reach the laces on the back of the stays. Her fingers were as deft as ever, and then she eased the stays out from under me, sitting in the chair again, already lacing the stays all over again.