"You always do," Ronson said, arching an eyebrow.

I flushed and ducked my head, but he caught my chin between thumb and forefinger, refusing to let me shy away.

"Please don't stop. That's why you're here, Mairwen."

I wasn't sure if he meant here in the Huberts' home or here at his side, and if my blurted opinions the day in the forest were why he had chosen me, but it wasn't the time to ask. Francesca was rising from a window seat in the small, sweet sitting room, crossing closer.

"Oh, Mouse! It's so good to see you. But you look as if you've rushed here," Francesca cried.

I twisted the end of my plain braid in my fingers and tried to catch my breath against the pressure in my chest. I had rushed here, and I wasn't properly dressed or with perfect ringlets like Francesca, but that was only because of whatever mess she'd accidentally cooked up.

"We did drive very quickly," I admitted, pretending I was here for a social call and helping myself to a seat she hadn't offered in one of the overstuffed armchairs. I turned to look back at Ronson, who towered over us both, even as Francesca remained standing. "We'll be all right," I said.

He shot Francesca one last glare, which sent her all but wilting into the chair across from me, and then swept from the room.

"Good gracious, he's terrifying. You poor thing. And you look exhausted. What an absolute surprise yesterday was. Do you think you'll be all right? I was quite shocked, and imagine how Adelaide must feel!"

"Adelaide was always partial to Hugh Gamesby," I reminded Francesca, then plowed ahead before she could start another unflattering ramble. "But look at you, Frannie! You've played it quite close to the chest. Five suitors! I thought you and Bexam…" I raised my eyebrows in polite suggestion. Francesca had arrived at the selection a bit muddled with scents, but I was sure it was Jeffery Bexam's violet and pine fragrance I'd caught the strongest whiff of.

"Oh, Jeffery is very sweet." Francesca nodded and smiled benignly, but her gaze flitted away in a manner that was more avoidant than dreamy.

"Of course. Mr. Millward is very handsome too," I said, sliding in a new direction.

"Mmm," she hummed, nodding once more.

I stared at her for a moment. Ten years ago, Francesca had been a wild monster of a girl, screaming through weeds as high as her wild halo of red curls, brandishing sticks as swords and collecting snakes to leave in the party picnic baskets. She was a child, of course, curious and rebellious, but she'd outshined the beta boys she'd run with for pure and unbridled mayhem. My mother said Lady Huberts would regret not keeping the girl under control when it was time for her to join society. In the end, the Huberts had hired a stern and commanding governess for their wayward daughter, and Francesca had grown and matured as all young ladies must. I'd considered it a shame she'd become so meek, but my opinions were usually contrary to society's. Still, the Huberts and their governess were successful. Francesca's youthful havoc had been thoroughly stomped out.

Unless...

"I remember when you were ten."

Francesca blinked and glanced at me.

"That governess of yours—Oh, what was her name?"

"Odalie Jones," Francesca answered.

I nodded, grinning. "'Odalie the odious,' you called her. She'd just arrived, only a month or so of staying with your family, and all of a sudden no one could find you. We had to search the whole island. You'd made it to the docks, and you were trying to sweet-talk a captain into giving you passage to Skybern."

Francesca's eyes lit up, even as her placid smile melted away. "I would've tried to stowaway if he hadn't agreed."

"I don't doubt it," I said, nodding. "I thought you'd manage it the next time—running away, that is. Or at least that you might end up finding your way out into the world sometime later."

Francesca's chin wobbled, her eyes filling, and my heart ached for her, for the clear longing that broke through the polite mask she'd learned to wear.

"I did it on purpose," she whispered, one tear spilling down over a peach-blush cheek, rich curls quivering with her tense trembles. "I had to make sure the alpha wouldn't choose me, of course. Then I'd really be trapped, or worse, dead. But I thought, if I could just make enough of a tangle, they'd spend more time arguing with each other. And I could just…" A sob broke free. "Oh, Mairwen! I don't know! Just put it off a little longer."

I rose and hurried to Francesca's side, wrapping my arms around her and drawing her into a hug. Francesca's breaths were rough and ragged. This was more than her usually fragile show of delicate, beautiful tears. This was true sorrow. Real fear.

"I don't want to get pregnant! What if I die?! Or what if I don't and I'm just stuck here, on this damned island, with one of them. Bleake Isle indeed. Oh, I don't know what to do!"

Francesca let out an inelegant wail against my breast, and the door cracked open, Ronson's head darting in to assess the scene.

"Why is it always who will they choose, and not what will we choose?" Francesca sobbed.

She was right, of course. I'd been preoccupied with my sealed fate with Mr. Evans, and it hadn't occurred to me that someone like Francesca, sure to receive decent offers from tolerable dragons, might still have a complaint with her own. Her fate was better than mine might've been at the hands of Mr. Evans, but that was an awfully low bar. Why weren't we omegas allowed to wish to leap higher? But Francesca had wished for more, and had even tried to scheme her way there, or as close as she could.

"You don't want any of them," I said, holding Ronson's gaze as he winced.

Francesca sniffled and sat up straighter, not noticing our audience as she stared up at me, frowning. "Don't you want to leave here? I want to see the world!"

I tried to ignore Ronson's stare and give her question real thought. "Personally? Yes, I'd like to see some of it. But I do like the isle."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Well, you're certainly stuck with it, now you've been chosen."

"I don't mind. I like him, actually," I said, fighting my own smile as Ronson carefully snuck back out and shut the door behind him. "And I think you should tell them the truth."

Francesca made a number of unladylike sounds that made me wish we might've taken the opportunity to get to know one another before now.

"Oh, Mouse, are you mad?!"

Or maybe not. Come to think of it, upon surrender to her family and society, Francesca had always tried to model herself a little too closely to Adelaide.

I pulled away, and Francesca pouted as I stood. "I'm not mad, and I'm Omega Cadogan now," I said. I was starting to think of my title as armor I might don while dealing with the dragons of the island. "You're not going to accomplish anything but wasting the alpha's time with this plan."

Francesca's perfectly blushed cheeks turned tomato red, and she reared back as if struck. I fisted my hands in the folds of my skirt and swung toward the door.

"Alpha!"

Ronson was clearly waiting, and he stepped inside immediately, a hum of male conversation simmering outside of the room. "A decision?" he asked.

"Not exactly," I answered, and then turned to stare down my nose at sweet, delicate Francesca Huberts. "Go on," I said.

Francesca gaped at me, eyes wide, stare bouncing between us. "I…I…I want to leave the island," she blurted out, and the words rushed forth once they began. "I want to go to the sea, and I want to visit Skybern and see the Dire Peakes, and perhaps go even farther."