Ronson's brow furrowed. "I think Gideon Millward might have some dealings in exports?"

"I don't want to be a dragon's rut partner! I don't want to be a mother who raises a daughter and then crushes her into a mold," Francesca spat. "I want to travel. That's all. Without being a beta's omega. I just want to be me, damnit."

Francesca was panting for her breath as Ronson's eyebrows rose steadily higher on his brow.

"So you'll have to…to order me to take one of them, and I don't care which. No, that's not true. Not the twins. They're both terrible kissers," Francesca admitted in a rush, cheeks darkening further.

There was a pause of quiet, and Ronson's gaze traveled slowly to me with a flicker of hope as if I might've suddenly declared this was a jest. Then he sighed and scratched his nails over the beard that was already growing back in, neat and thick on his jaw. How would it feel against my skin when it was more than just bristles? I shook the thought away and tried to focus on the problem at hand once more.

"I see," Ronson said, moving to a chair and sitting down heavily at the edge of the cushion, wings spread at his back to avoid being crushed. "Well, I don't have a boat to offer you, so we'd better think of a more sensible plan than just 'off you go into the world.' Your parents won't agree to that, I'm sure."

I wasn't sure how Francesca took this answer, because I was too busy reeling myself. I'd guessed this man, this alpha, might listen. I'd even thought he'd likely make sure Francesca could avoid accepting a beta's suit for the rut too, although it was practically unheard of. But the part about the ship had seemed…like a fantasy.

"Mairwen? Come here, you look about to faint again. Have you eaten?"

I wandered to Ronson's side and sank obediently to his knee where his hands on my hips guided me. My own hand braced against his shoulder and he ducked his head, stroking his jaw on my arm, marking me absently.

"What do you think? It's a difficult request," he said, tipping his chin up to wait for my answer.

It was absurd—the idea that an omega could go off on her own, on a ship, to see the world, without a male dragon at her side.

It was outrageous, and he was trying to make a plan. A plan to do as Francesca wanted, really wanted, with her life. She hadn't begged or batted her long, bright lashes, or even wept. She'd spat the words at him, and he'd listened.

I grasped Ronson's face in both hands and lurched forward, planting a clumsy but determined kiss to his lips. He grumbled an objection as I pulled away, and Francesca's jaw hung low in shock, but I ignored them both, my head running riot with new ideas.

"Perhaps we can say…she's too sophisticated for the island. She'll need a chaperone when she goes, but Lady Nightingale might do. She's quite fashionable."

"She's scandalous!" Francesca cried.

I shrugged. "You'll be scandalous too, you know. You'd better reconcile yourself to that quickly, or this won't work."

Francesca blinked and her face brightened. "Oh, I see. Yes, you're right. And she is stylish. And very witty. Mother says the most awful things about her, but she can't stand not to be invited to her soirées."

"You'll need to convince Francesca's parents that she'll find a much better match with a grand tour, and some sophistication," I said to Ronson, holding a hand up to halt interruptions. "I know that isn't the real goal, but we can hardly present the idea of her independence straight away. We're buying Francesca time."

"It probably won't take much. They're very proud of me, and they were sure if it weren't for Adelaide I would've—Well, never mind," Francesca said, blushing and glancing between us once more.

"As for the betas..." I chewed on my lip, and Ronson reached up, pulling it free and soothing his thumb over the damp spot.

"I'll manage the betas," he said.

"They'll be angry," I murmured.

"Only one of them was going to be pleased," Ronson answered back, lowering his voice.

I thought that being offended over not being chosen was one thing, but having it declared that no beta on the island would be good enough was going to be quite a different problem. Especially since there was already a treasonous murder plot hatched. But I couldn't talk about that now, not with Francesca right there, watching us like we were a gossip column in live action.

Ronson rose from the chair, lifting me easily and setting me back on my toes. He turned us, and his wings provided privacy for the brief kiss brushed over my lips.

"I will manage from here, Mairwen. Tell Niall to take you to speak to Lady Nightingale? Do you mind that part?"

"Not at all," I said. I liked Lady Nightingale, who never once called me by anything but my name and would lend me scandalous books from her personal library.

"If she agrees to our scheme, have Niall take you back to the castle and then send him to me," Ronson said.

"I could also⁠—"

He ducked down, and my breath caught in my chest, lips parting and preparing for a kiss, but his lips moved to my ear, almost grazing. "I want you back at the castle. To build the nest. For tonight," he rumbled.

I skittered toward the door, ignoring the dark chuckle at my back.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter TwelveRONSON

My wings burned and my ears rang as I approached the castle, the many cries and complaints I'd heard on repeat still circling in my head. What kind of precedence was I setting? What objection did I have to my own citizens, aside from a conspiracy to murder me that I wasn't ready to address yet? What was I thinking?

The truth was, I wasn't sure. Niall had left with the betas to go and fetch Lady Nightingale, agreeing to keep a subtle eye on the men for the rest of the day, and I'd remained stuck with the Huberts, negotiating their daughter's freedom. Freedom from a tradition that dated back a millenium. Freedom from the men who were seeking to challenge my role as alpha. Freedom from the island I ruled over.

Why? a dozen beta voices chorused in my head.

I slowed my flight, a leisurely fall to the balcony where Niall waited. Either he'd been standing there for hours, or he really did have a sixth sense of when I was arriving. The lamps were lit high in my office, prepared for a sleepless night of scheming and plotting, planning new strategies to build fresh alliances to make up for the disaster I'd just created.

And why?

"Palmer took the Dunne twins to Gamesby's estate, of course," Niall announced as I touched down on the balcony. "Bexam went home to deliver a speech against women to his sympathetic mother."

"And Millward?" I asked, pacing back and forth in front of my brother.

"He went to see Lionel Buchanan," Niall said, something hidden in his voice.

"Buchanan? What would they have to do with one another?" I asked.

Niall wet his lips and raised his eyebrows. "Rather a lot, by the look of it. I think they'll…see each other through the rut."

Oh. It was a commonplace secret that betas might seek each other's company for physical relief when an omega wasn't at hand. It had been outlawed long ago, one of the absurd laws I'd been looking forward to undoing when the opportunity presented itself.

"Fair enough," I said, shrugging.

Niall nodded. "That's what I thought. Your omega didn't come to dinner."