"What?" My jaw was hanging open, but the rest of me felt quite numb, and I shook myself, as if I might make sense of these words. "Why…why have I never heard of this before now?"

"Because it is easier to prevent something from happening if you are able to erase even the suggestion it might be possible," Beatrice said with a shrug. "Which our forefathers did their very best to do. The birth rates of male dragons were dropping quite quickly for several centuries at that time. I don't know if our relative made the law to protect the isle's dragonkin population, or if he simply wanted to ensure his own heir."

"Beatrice, are you telling me… If the flowers were outlawed, how did you obtain them?" Was there time to get the tea for Mairwen too?

"Men take little interest in flowers," Beatrice said with a wave of her hand. "Especially our father. The library here at the castle has many texts that have been banned across the rest of the isle, including the records I needed. And Father gave me fair warning of his plan to use me as a political tool. I was able to track down the seeds I needed. I planted them in the greenhouse here, drank the tea on my monthly visits. I thought Father and Sebastian would grow suspicious, discover my deception eventually, but I don't think either of them knew enough about the real history of our island to realize what I was doing was possible. Erudite gentlemen, they were not."

My chest ached, and as Beatrice fell silent, I realized I'd been holding my breath. "And the flowers?"

Beatrice smiled, earnest and wrinkled, and she reached across the desk to cover my tense hand with her own soft and aged one. "I could brew Mairwen the tea today, if she wants it. But it must be her choice, Ronson. I gave the choice to your mother, but she wanted a child. And she loved you. I'm glad you don't want to take Mairwen's choice away, but I won't, either."

"Brew the tea, Beatrice," I said, the leaden weight in my chest easing, the prospect of the rut stirring interest and heat in my belly once more. "I'll speak to Mairwen."

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter EighteenMAIRWEN

My stomping footsteps echoed through the halls of the castle, and I realized as I made my way to Ronson's office that this enormous and intimidating structure was becoming slightly less of a maze. I would've been pleased by the fact, but I was too busy being itchy and irritable and annoyed.

The castle servants had arrived at the nest with a huge copper tub and a dozen pails of steaming water, and the prospect of a bath had been the perfect balm to the disappointment of Ronson rushing off once again, and this time for no apparent reason. And then one of the human women had stepped forward to speak.

"Lord Cadogan wishes to speak to you, Omega Cadogan."

I'd stared blankly at the human servant before the words registered.

"Then he can come back to the nest," I'd answered, a little too sharply. The busy servants stilled and I shook myself. "I'm sorry. Of course, I'll go speak to him."

"Your bath will be ready when you return, milady," the young maid said, curtsying as I passed her, her nose pointed to the floor in a way that left me feeling like a bully.

I forced myself to draw in a deep breath as I approached Ronson's door. The last thing I needed was to lose my temper with the alpha too, no matter what kind of rapport was growing between us. Especially since I'd somehow managed to displease him on the flight home. Or was he angry because I'd wandered off on my own to spy on the betas?

I paused outside of his office, shuffling in bare feet, wishing I'd made him wait for me to bathe before going to speak to him, partly for my own comfort and partly just to annoy him. I could turn back. The servants would be gone by now, leaving that lovely and large steaming bath all to myself. If Ronson could storm off from the nest, surely I could storm⁠—

"Mairwen."

I gasped and jumped in place as Ronson swung the door open.

"Why are you standing in the hall?"

"I was debating returning upstairs for my bath." My face twisted in frustration, annoyed by my habit of always blurting out the truth to this man.

Ronson purred, and his eyes darkened. "We'll bathe together. After we talk."

"You couldn't have come up to the nest to speak with me?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Mairwen, if I went up to the nest, I wouldn't have spoken. I would've tossed you onto the bed and—" He grimaced and cleared his throat, backing away from the door. "This is…important."

Some of my ire softened. The real truth, the one I wouldn't even speak to Ronson, was that I'd worked myself into a bit of a lather after he'd left me upstairs, convinced he was changing his mind about keeping me as his omega for the rut, that he'd flown back to the betas to bargain for a better one.

I stepped forward, and Ronson backed away. Not as though he was trying to stay out of my reach, but more like…

Like he was keeping from reaching for me.

I crossed the threshold and stepped farther from him, pressing my lips together as he stumbled in my direction, keeping a precise amount of space between us.

"What is this about?"

"Sit, please," Ronson said, holding out his arm to guide me toward the chairs at his desk.

I sighed, tightening my fingers around my elbows, and obeyed.

"Oh," I murmured after Ronson had finished explaining his busy thoughts during the flight to the castle and his conversation with Beatrice. They hadn't been so different than my own this afternoon, and it gave me a soft, bitter ache in my chest to know he'd been worrying for me.

"I thought the only option was to avoid you during the rut, but I…didn't really want to do that. I don't even know that I would be capable of staying away," Ronson said, scowling, as if that wasn't one of the best compliments anyone had ever offered me.

"But it's not as if we are just—Ronson, you are the alpha. If anyone found out that I made certain not to conceive your heir… Well, like Beatrice said, it's criminal."

Ronson leaned forward in his seat, reaching across to take my hand in a firm grip—his first touch to me since he'd left me upstairs. I resented how that simple grasp seemed to ground me, settling some of the anxious thrumming in my chest. "Only you, Beatrice, and I would know. Mairwen, I don't even need to know. This is entirely your decision."

I pursed my lips and stared back at him. "Is it? Really? Do you…not want an heir?" Do you not want me to give you one?

He sighed and leaned back, and his hand slipped from mine. "I don't want the matter of an heir to be an either-or question," he said.

Either the heir, or me.

"That's what we're discussing though, if I do drink the tea," I reasoned. "And the strength of two⁠—"

Ronson waved his hands. "As far as we really know, that's just a proverb. My father's strength didn't double when I was born, and I certainly wasn't any use to him for the first couple decades. I was only a child."

I fidgeted with my skirt. Ronson could offer me this choice, wait another ten years, declare me useless, and take a new omega. Or he could even simply wait for me to die naturally, if he was really patient and men like Gamesby didn't come up with a successful plot before I was out of the picture.