I glanced over my shoulder to Niall and nodded my head toward the door the others had left from. "Keep an eye on them. Keep things civil." He grimaced, but nodded and joined the others, leaving Francesca quaking and crying, teardrops splatting against her hands.

"You don't need to be frightened," I said, my jaw grinding.

"Of course not, Lord Cadogan," she answered with a wobble and a sniff.

"I only asked to speak to you alone so you might feel you could express your preference freely."

I caught the furrow of her brow before her face lifted, eyes wide and baffled. "My preference?"

I stared back at her, and her gaze dropped once more. "Your preference of the gentlemen."

Lace around her collar ruffled as she swallowed. "I will of course prefer whomever you deem best."

"What? No, that's not—Which of the dragons do you choose, Miss Huberts?"

This time, I could've sworn she scowled, but her expression smoothed too quickly. "They are all very fine. Very good gentlemen. I would never presume to know better than you, Alpha."

I opened my mouth to ask about Jeffery Bexam, but then shut it just as quickly. If I so much at hinted a name, she would probably immediately agree. This was beyond biddable and had crossed into the territory of stubbornly submissive. Certainly there were men who might assume any woman was this much of a…blank drawing board for them to sketch out their own desires on. But I'd grown up with Beatrice for a sister and seen my father's heavy hand on women and the way it crumbled the person inside of the body he coveted. I did not want to be another man in a woman's life telling her what she would prefer.

My nose wrinkled, and I backed away from the girl. "Stay here," I muttered to her.

I needed someone with sense. Someone who knew more about this omega and these dragons, had seen more of them, than I had. I hurried to the door, yanking it open and ignoring the many expectant faces until I found Niall.

"Get me Mairwen. Now."

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Chapter ElevenMAIRWEN

“Seems an awful lot of pomp and flourish for a duck," Cook muttered, but she edited her recipe and added ingredients to the list, just as she had for my other suggestions.

"Lord Cadogan may not need more than a slab of beef and a few roasted potatoes, but I assure you, these additions and adjustments will be appreciated," I said, adding privately, if not by him, then by me.

It felt almost scandalous to be planning such a decadent menu. At home, economy required simplification and using scraps and leftovers in creative ways. To be allowed to ask for anything, and in any quantity, was almost daunting.

"Now, as to the meals that will be delivered during the rut," I said, trying not to let my words tremble.

"If you think his lordship wants purees and confits during his⁠—"

I laughed and shook my head. "No, no, it's not that. Only that I think I would be grateful for some fruit, along with all the cheese and bread and cured meats, if you can manage it."

'If you can manage it' was the secret password to getting my way with Cook, a challenge to her determinedly capable authority over the kitchen.

She made another note. "Easily enough. His lordship doesn't drink enough water during the rut."

I blinked, and for a moment, I struggled imagining how the stout elderly woman might know such a fact. She turned and glared up at me.

"Doesn't go through the jugs we send up. Not fast enough, by my reckoning."

My hands twisted behind my back, and I nodded. "I see. I'll do my best to…to⁠—"

"See that you do. Need wine?"

I tried not to recall the dark sparks in Ronson's gaze, the glitter of sweat on his chest and brow. Cook and I were meeting in a lovely sitting room that overlooked the sea, and I'd thrown open the windows to enjoy the cool breeze, which meant there was no logical reason for me to be so flushed.

"Omega Cadogan?" Cook snapped.

"Sorry, yes, a little wine would be lovely."

Sharp bristles scraping against my breast, his hot tongue⁠—

A soft knock on the door sounded, but once again, the halfling dragon, Niall, didn't wait before entering. I was sure my face was in flames now.

"Apologies for the interruption, Omega Cadogan, but Ronson sent me to fetch you."

Tonight.

I whipped my head toward the window, as if I would see the sun setting, as if time might've passed at the alpha's will. But no, it was still midday. Not that he'd seemed incredibly patient this morning.

"He requires your assistance in regards to a dispute amongst the dragons."

"What?" I gasped, turning back to Niall. That was even more absurd than the alpha willing the sun to set.

Niall's expression gave away nothing. "The carriage is ready. If you would forgo any additional preparation before leaving, that would be best. He is waiting."

Which only reminded me that I was dressed in yesterday's clothing, corset tied as tightly as the dress required, my hair uncurled and hanging down in a long, plain braid. Cook rose and nodded to me, passing Niall at the doorway.

"What kind of dispute?" I asked, smoothing my skirt and crossing the room.

"A Miss Huberts⁠—"

"Oh, dear. Frannie? Never mind, we'd better hurry."

Niall huffed, and his lips twitched. He eyed me briefly before stepping out of the way and gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. It was strange to lead the way, especially as I barely knew my own way around the castle, and Niall had certainly lived here all his life. I'd never had precedence in my life. My father wasn't important; I wasn't popular, and I wasn't even bossy.

And now I must sit at the left hand of the alpha and walk in front of all others. That was my status as long as I was the alpha's omega—ahead of all but Lord Cadogan.

It might've been fun, if only I knew my way around.

I realized what had happened as soon as we stepped from the hall into the sitting room. The dubious glances of a number of dragon gentlemen landed on me, glanced away, and then returned in force as if they had simultaneously all recalled who I was.

They stood, and delivered low bows while barely able to tear their eyes from me in narrowed speculation.

Oh Francesca, what have you gotten yourself into? And why on earth are the Dunne twins part of it?

My knees wobbled with the impulse to curtsy, but I was startled by the sudden bang of the door opposite me thrown open. In spite of the thunderous expression on his face and the heavy waves of harsh smoky scent that wafted from him, I found myself relieved to see Ronson standing in the doorway.

"Finally. Come."

The betas parted to offer me a path through the room, and Ronson puffed up, eyes darting a glare from one group to the other. His hand extended, and I caught it, stifling my gasp as he yanked me to his side. His wings spread, one curling around my back to shield us from view as his head lowered, brushing his jaw against my cheek. A heavy sigh rushed over the top of my head.

"What's happened? Did Francesca not make up—Never mind, of course she didn't," I whispered.

"I can't get an honest answer out of her," Ronson muttered.

"No gently bred dragon lady would dare give the alpha an opinion unless she was sure it was his too," I said, my lips twitching at Ronson's sneer. Perhaps I was becoming immune to his expressions.