"I-I owe you…many apologies, Mairwen," my father said as he took two more tremulous steps forward, almost as if he were afraid of me. I suppose I had been fairly fearsome when I'd transformed in front of him. "Most pressingly for allowing Palmer's influence to coerce me here yesterday."

I glanced at Ronson behind his desk, and he offered a subtle nod. He believed my father. That was a relief.

"If you hadn't come, I might not have realized Ronson was under attack," I said. I shifted toward my father, wondering if he would flinch back, but he only heaved out a breath and lurched, meeting me halfway, circling his arms around me in a tight hug.

"I thought you'd leapt to your death," he whispered, a fragile tear in the words.

"Mairwen's arrival certainly settled the matter amongst the betas. We are the strength of two dragons," Ronson said firmly, smiling at me.

It had been literal after all. A mated alpha had another dragon at his side, fighting with him, making him stronger. And according to Ronson, I made a formidable addition to his strength, which was a compliment I hadn't expected to enjoy so much. It was nice to be considered ferocious instead of forgettable.

I was a dragon. The alpha's mate. Ronson's siren. My spine straightened, and the tension in my chest faded away.

"Could we have a moment alone?" I asked Ronson.

"Of course." Ronson rounded his desk, reaching me without a moment of hesitation as he drew me closer, lips grazing over my brow. "I'll be in the hall with Niall."

I lifted my face to kiss his jaw before he slipped out of the room, leaving me alone with my parents. It was quiet in the room, the sun cutting through the window panes, stretching across Ronson's desk to reach the three of us.

"May I…may I touch?" My mother's hand was outstretched, hovering next to my right wing, and I fought the urge to tuck them close.

This was a small sample of how the isle might respond—the disbelief, the curiosity, the wariness. There would be outrage too, I was sure. Omegas were meant to be dainty and delicate and talented at pouring tea and stitching. We weren't meant to be dragons.

But we were dragonkin, so perhaps it was time for society to catch back up.

"You may," I said, flexing my wing open, letting it butt into my mother's fingers. She gasped, her hand retreating and then returning.

"My goodness. My word. Oh, Agnes Hubbard will be quite envious," my mother said, finishing with a trilling laugh. "She always did think wings were a waste on gentlemen. They never have so many things to do as an omega."

My father's eyes were fixed to my face rather than my wings, searching me, studying. "Can you forgive me, Mairwen?"

My mother startled, retreating to his side, glancing between us, delivering that watery, pleading stare to me, urging me to say yes.

"I will forgive you for coming here with Palmer, for letting his words twist your judgment," I said.

My mother sighed, a tremulous smile offered to my father, but he was still watching me.

"But?" he prompted.

I wet my lips, wondering if might be better to bid them goodbye for now, to push no further. I didn't need their support. I couldn't, wouldn't go back in time to change anything, but only because I had what I needed and wanted most now. Still…

"But…I wish that it hadn't taken someone else—a stranger to me, to you—to see that I was not wrong, or inappropriate, or less than the other omegas," I said softly, drawing a deep breath and continuing before they might interject. "I wish not that I had been enough for you both, because I was always enough. I wish that when all others had found fault in me, you had loved me as your daughter, exactly as I was, so that I might've loved myself too."

My mother's breath caught, her eyes wide, tears slipping free. "Mairwen," she murmured, and I wasn't sure if it was a plea, or an objection, or a refusal of what I spoke.

I shook my head. "I am not the wrong size, and I'm not strange. I am beautiful, I have a perfume, I have a nice singing voice, and I do know my place. It is here, with the alpha. With my mate."

"We see that, Mairwen," my father said, dipping his head. "We see that now."

I nodded, smoothing my hands over my skirts. "I can't say I won't forgive you for how long it took. I think I am the forgiving sort, and I do love you both…but I haven't yet. That will take more time."

My mother was flushed, avoiding my gaze, but my father would soothe her shame in private. He reached for me and I accepted, squeezing his hand in mine. I didn't know exactly when I would be ready to see them again, to risk another dinner, but I did know that I would not shrink or fall silent or fail to defend myself again. Ronson would take up arms for me, if I asked it, but I was strong enough on my own too, and now I knew as much.

The crowd was far larger than I'd expected, fuller even than the day of the selection, although Niall had said those crowds had thinned out over the decades, since Ronson never elected to take an omega for himself before me. But this must've been every soul on the isle. Perhaps even some travelers from the nearby port. All here to see me.

To gawk at the omega with wings.

"Mating is natural to dragonkin, an honored practice we lost over time and one I am wholly grateful to discover with my own omega," Ronson continued, his voice loud but unable to cut through the murmurs and mutterings of our audience.

His expression grew darker by the moment, and I resisted the urge to fidget at his side. Niall had arranged for the pamphlets we'd had printed to be passed around, but it was clear that most people were discarding them or tucking them away.

They didn't care about Ronson biting me, or that I was his mate. They cared that they were looking at a woman with wings. The more he spoke, the more restless they grew.

When Ronson took a steadying breath, a rough voice rose up from the crowd, accent strange and thick.

"Wings look damned fake to me!"

My eyebrows rose, and I turned to Ronson, whose eyes were full of irate fire. His body tensed, as if prepared to launch himself into the crowd and fight whoever had spoken.

"Show us yer dragon, then!"

I squinted and found movement in the crowd, a figure in a strangely heavy cloak shifting from one spot to another. Their head lifted briefly, revealing a pronounced nose and a roguish smile.

Seamus DeRoche…egging on the crowd?

No…

Encouraging me.

Let them see me, my dragon purred, shifting restlessly, hot in my chest. Show them my beauty and my claws.

I squeezed Ronson's hand, his teeth bared in a snarl, and he calmed again with one smile from me. The crowd quieted into sudden silence as I stepped forward.

"Very well," I said, and a collective breath was stolen, a great shift in the air, anticipation electric.

I hadn't transformed since Ronson coaxed my dragon back after yesterday's fight, but she was there in my chest, ready and eager, equally amused with Seamus's scheming.

Ronson tugged at our hands to catch my attention, searching my face for a moment before relaxing, satisfied that I was comfortable. "I'll give you room," he said, stepping back and then surging forward for a firm kiss that made our audience titter.

My eyes slid shut as I opened to him, but he was gone too quickly and the entire island was looking at me now. I took a deep breath, steeling myself against the inevitable censure and alarm of their stares, then reopened my eyes.