And with that declaration, coldly given and yet leaving me warm from head to toe, dinner resumed in silence.

My mother hummed as she sipped the second small glass of sherry I'd poured her and shot another hopeful look toward the parlor door. Beatrice had retired just a few minutes ago after carrying the lion's share of our after-dinner conversation, and I knew we were both only waiting for one thing at this point. For Niall, Ronson, and my father to join us, preferably only to say our goodbyes for the evening. My head was pounding and there was a tight ache at the back of my neck, and I must've been right that the dinner menu was too rich, because I'd only taken a few bites but my stomach had been turning ever since.

"I do worry for you, Mou-Mairwen," my mother stammered, carelessly tripping over my name.

I blinked at her, baffled that Ronson's sharp words at dinner had made enough of an impression for her to even try and correct the slip of the nickname.

"Worry?" I repeated.

Her eyes were watery, but they often were and the tears rarely spilled over. The implication of her sentiment was enough for my mother. "It's a terrible burden for a girl like you, Mouse, to be the alpha's omega. Everyone will be waiting for you to produce another alpha. And oh, my darling girl," she gasped out, leaning forward and clasping my hands in her feverish grip. Her voice trembled, and this time a tear, a beautiful one, did trickle down her cheek. "They are such terrible births. My mother lost a sister to the last alpha, you know. And so many other families lost girls too."

I swallowed hard, biting down the confession that itched at my throat. My loyalty was not to my mother now. It was to Ronson, my alpha. My omega knows quite a lot.

I straightened, squeezed my mother's fingers, and breathed slowly in and out, trying and failing to expel the ragged pain in my head. It didn't work, but it did make my voice steady when I spoke.

"Gryffyd Evans has lost a number of omegas in births as well, Mother. Many women are lost to dragonkin with every match." I searched my mother's lovely, smooth features as her brow furrowed. Did you drink the tea, Mother? Is that why there was only ever me?

"It's-It's true Mr. Evans was not what we might have wanted for you⁠—"

I pulled my hands free from my mother's grip, giving her a simple pat. "Things will turn out as they will. Ronson—Lord Cadogan—he isn't careless with me."

"He's very severe," my mother murmured, shaking her head and saying more to herself than me, "and you are such an unusual sort of omega."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw open the windows of this pretty parlor—one I met with Cook in to organize meals and took tea with Beatrice in, but still felt as though it belonged to someone else—and leap from the windows and take flight over the sea. Not forever, not like Francesca longed to leave the isle and seek adventure, but at least until my parents had loaded themselves into their carriage and returned home.

But I need Ronson to fly, and he was⁠—

A rumble of male voices approached from the hall, and my composure gave way, sinking me back into the cushion of the chair I sat in and drawing a sting of relieved tears to my eyes.

Please let this night be over, I thought, even considered shouting, as the door opened.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Twenty-SixRONSON

Where is my omega? I thought, entering the parlor, staring at the wilted creature in the armchair by the fire. Mairwen's eyes glittered in the light, but their amber glow had dulled. I swallowed hard around yet another snarl and then cleared my throat.

"The Posy carriage is called," I managed, refraining from the rest of what I would've liked to say. It's time to say goodbye to your damned parents. Unless you'd rather I simply toss them out without another word. Let's not invite them back.

I claimed a greedy gulp of air, stepping inside the parlor. Mairwen's perfume lingered here, remnants from another day, but it had withered to nothing since her parents' arrival. Still, any taste of her was a relief.

Mairwen rose from her seat, smoothing her skirt and wearing a placid smile as her mother babbled wishes of staying longer, her worry for her daughter.

"Please, M-Mairwen, you must⁠—"

No! "Omega," I called, cutting the woman off. Mairwen's glazed expression drifted in my direction. I extended my hand, and Mairwen sagged with a released breath, crossing toward me.

All night, the Posys had seemed to grasp and pluck at Mairwen's luster, like pulling feathers from a beautiful bird. And I had made the terrible mistake of keeping silent, of letting Mairwen take their subtle jabs and sweetly-delivered doubts. At first, I'd been more concerned with showing the Posys that I wasn't a tyrant of an alpha like my father, that I was taking good care of Mairwen, that she was happy here with me. Mairwen's quiet seemed out of character, and I'd thought it was only nerves, that she would want her parents to be pleased by the castle or by me, by her situation.

The truth arrived too late. The Posys had as little faith in their daughter as men like Gamesby, a fact they were not shy to express.

Mairwen reached my side, and I spared no time in wrapping my arm around her shoulders and tugging her against me. She was listless, leaning into me, her perfume vanished and replaced by a slightly bitter note. Here was the woman they called Mouse. Her shoulders had drawn up during dinner, closing around her as I might use my wings to shield me. Her eyes had dropped, rarely lifting, and the only flare of life I'd seen since the start of dinner was when I'd rebuked her father, color and life rising to her cheeks. Embarrassment, yes, and shock, but at least she'd been Mairwen in that moment. I should've gone on chewing her parents' ears, correcting every rotten word they'd said, praising every moment I'd spent with their daughter, but I'd been tied up in knots of anger, fairly certain that if I spoke another word, it would come with dragon's fire.

Better to get them out of the castle and coax Mairwen back to herself. I had a better idea of how to draw her perfume out now, but it wasn't her perfume I missed. Or not most of all.

"You look tired," I whispered to Mairwen as her mother bustled closer.

"I have such a headache," she admitted, her voice even softer than my own.

Mairwen's father watched us, something like understanding taking over his expression, his gaze on my hands where they spread over the base of her spine. Yes, you fool, I have the sense to be grateful for your daughter. To see her value. To-to⁠—

I stiffened, blinking down at Mairwen's head. It was tilting on her neck toward my chest, but not helping itself to its place there.

Albert Posy was still watching me as I lifted my stare, his eyes narrowed slightly and a bemused smile on his lips. He'd tried to press his case again over brandy, but he'd been docile and almost resigned at my stern refusal.

"I could not have dreamt of such a superior match for you, my dear," Lord Posy said to Mairwen.

You should have! I wanted to scream. You should've demanded it for her.

"Thank you, Papa," Mairwen said, but she didn't pull free of my embrace, only extended her hand to her father for a brief and gentle shake of hands.

"I hope you will both excuse us. Niall will see you to your carriage, but I should like to take my omega up to our nest," I said with the merest hint of a bow to the older couple.