"Everyone will think I failed," I said, speaking the words softly to my lap. And they won't be surprised, I added privately.

Ronson's chair creaked and his boots thumped, and I drew myself up, trying to force myself into a calm, unaffected expression. But when the alpha sank before me, gathering my hands and holding them gently in his own, those dark eyes shining up at me, I found my vision blurring and my throat tight.

"I don't want to refuse you the right to have a child, if that's what you want, Mairwen. But I don't want you to take this risk for anyone but yourself. You're worth more than a potential heir."

I sputtered, a garbled laugh slipping from my lips. "Ronson, that's…absurd⁠—"

"I'm not going anywhere," Ronson said, shrugging. "And I've managed this long without one, haven't I?"

"You know it's not that simple. You are…you're the alpha. Even if you don't mind…" Did he need an heir? Society would say yes. And up until today, until this moment, Ronson and I both knew his intention had been to gain one.

Until he realized it might mean…losing me? Or just the guilt of my death? The answer shouldn't have mattered, but I was so close to asking.

The door behind me squeaked on its hinges, and I jumped, half expecting my family and Gamesby and all of dragonkin to burst inside this room, pointing their fingers and accusing me of-of⁠—

I didn't know the word for it. Something disgraceful, embarrassing, and clumsy, no doubt.

But it was Beatrice walking into the office, carrying a well-loved porcelain tea set with faded painted flowers and slightly chipped cups. The steam rising from the pot was fragrant and a bit pungent, and my stomach turned queasily, eyes bouncing between Ronson and his sister.

"Mairwen, look at me."

I held my breath and met Ronson's gaze, and for a moment, there was no panic, no shame. Just the soft urge to lean forward and fall into him, seal my mouth to his and forget all the other little troubles that seemed to stack up around us. I flushed, and he caught my face in his hands before I could turn away again.

"Forget the rest," he said, voice low and heavy, like thunder on the horizon, his words echoing my own thoughts. "Make your choice. No one else's."

My eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in, grazing a kiss over my mouth and then pressing one firmly to my brow. Porcelain and silver rattled gently as Beatrice set the tray down at the edge of the desk. Ronson released me, standing up at my side so I was framed between the siblings. I swayed, untethered, as yellow and pink flowers gleamed out of the corner of my eye.

"You'll need to drink at least three cups, but given how close the rut is, I'd suggest finishing the whole pot," Beatrice said smoothly. "It's bitter, but you get used to it, and there's no physical discomfort."

"I'll wait upstairs in the nest," Ronson said. "Take as long as you need. Beatrice?"

"In a moment, Ronson."

I was trying to catch my breath, but each effort came in short, weak gasps, as if the air in the room was too thin. An heir would be my chance to prove dragonkin wrong about how they thought of me. I would not be the omega the alpha had chosen as a last resort, but the omega who'd helped continue the Cadogan line. The right choice instead of the wrong one.

Would dragonkin's opinions matter if I didn't survive?

Beatrice cleared her throat and I stirred, glancing around the room. Ronson was gone. It was only us. "It was always important to me that Ronson not grow up to become an alpha like our father. One who put his own interests and desires before all others, before the good of the isle. And he has. I knew that decades ago," Beatrice said, waving her hand. "What I failed to expect, because I've never truly seen an example of it in my entire life, was that he would also see us—see omegas—as more than the use of a broodmare. He means it when he frees you to make your own choice, Mairwen."

I licked my lips, blinking up at Beatrice, who waited for a moment before nodding and heading for the door.

"But is it right, then, if I have no gift to give in return?"

My voice was small, but Beatrice's quiet steps paused. I didn't turn to look at her, wasn't really sure if she'd answer me.

"Are you sure there's nothing? Nothing but a potential child to follow in a line? What does it really matter if the Cadogans reign as alpha on this isle? Alphas rise and they fall. I'm not sure our bloodline matters to Ronson, and our father isn't here to care."

And perhaps even if there was a male dragon child, he might fail to grow into an alpha, take the position from Ronson. Dragonkin would be as unsurprised by that as they would my failure to produce one at all.

I groaned and leaned forward, dropping my face into my hands. My choice. My choice. What was my choice?

"Drink the tea, or dump it. No one need know your decision but you."

The door shut behind Beatrice, and I was left with the hundreds of bickering arguments in my head.

The sun was setting, and the room was cast in gold and copper rays of light when I finally made it back to the nest. I paused in the doorway, struck dumb by the sight of Ronson in all his blazing warmth, wings seeming to soak up the sunset and reflect it darkly. He was frozen too, halfway across the room, staring back at me, and he let out a long, heavy breath.

"I've been using my dragon fire to keep the water warm for you," he rasped out in greeting. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him what I'd done, the decision I'd made, but Ronson held his hand out to me, waiting for me to reach his side.

And it was my decision. If he wanted to know, he could ask me.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, the click of the latch loud and final. "Did you already bathe?"

"I washed off a little, but no, we're bathing together. Are you ready, Mairwen?"

I turned to face him. He wasn't asking if I was ready to wash. This was more than that. We'd managed a great deal of exploration in the last two nights, but two nights would never be enough preparation for a dragon's rut. Especially not the alpha's.

"Is it true you shift into a dragon during…?"

Ronson grinned, his teeth sharper than they had been a week ago. "Not exactly. I grow larger, and more dragon features appear throughout, but I couldn't truly shift completely, not for the act itself. Not even an omega as perfect as you could take my dragon. Is that something people think?"

"It's just a rumor. It sounded false," I said, ducking my head.

Shadows churned out of the corner of my eye, and then Ronson was there, in front of me. Had he flown, or could he muffle his thunder and step silently when he wanted? Either way, he was surrounding me, the door solid at my back and him even more so in front of me.

His brow furrowed. "You're frightened."

"Nervous," I corrected, trying to avoid looking at him. But it was impossible. He was huge, and he was taking up every inch of my view. "Tired."

"We can⁠—"

"Excited," I continued, glancing up, his gaze as black and difficult to decipher as ever. "Confused. It was a big day, Ronson."

"Just a bath, then," he said, gathering me gently and peeling me away from the door, cocooning me in strong arms and heavy wings.

"Not just a bath," I said, and his steps faltered. "I'm afraid if we wait another day, the betas will find a way to sink the isle into the sea and make it your job to float us back out again. But maybe… Can we move slowly?"