Standing now on that very stage, the bright morning sun glaring into my eyes, I counted five of the seven of them in the audience. Not bad odds, actually.

How many of the eight of us standing now will be here in ten years?

Mr. Evans was glaring at me from the left-hand of the stage, his face red with last night's fury, a promise of retribution. I tore my stare away from his and found my parents in the seats of the audience, their expressions a little bland and nervous. They must've been aware of my failure the night before. I didn't bear Mr. Evans's mark.

It occurred to me then that today ought to have been slightly humiliating, at least to the perspective of the dragonkin gathered. The humans wouldn't notice my smell, but the gentry dragons would. Only Adelaide and I were unmarked. If it had just been me, and I was overlooked by the alpha, even without the beta scent on me, nothing would be a stronger execution of my worth in society.

Adelaide's betrayal was my salvation. Everyone would be too shocked by his dismissal of her to think anything of him snubbing me.

Adelaide was two girls down the line, and I sent her a grateful smile she didn't see. In fact, no one saw it, because all eyes were turned to the sky as a shadow swept over our gathering.

Our alpha had arrived.

Lord Cadogan's dragon was earthy shades of black and rust, a fiery orange cast on his scaled belly. His body was long and solidly built, but not heavy and rounded like the illustrations of his father I'd seen. The dragon was as beautifully terrifying as the man, and he swooped overhead to the cheers of the human villagers standing and to the polite clapping of dragonkin.

He flew to the edges of the crowd on the right of the stage, and brought his hind legs down, body shrinking and transforming in an almost liquid shift into a man, black boots gleaming, clothes only slightly windswept, curls wild.

My stomach clenched, still woozy from the night—I'd been sick several more times before I'd finally finished expelling Mr. Evans's poisonous wine—and I rested my hand over my waist where Lord Cadogan's arm had been banded.

"Adelaide is so lucky," Sophia whispered, sighing softly.

I snorted, but she ignored me. Adelaide would've been lucky if she'd had the sense to tell Hugh Gamesby where to stick his murder plot.

Our alpha shook his wings, morning steam from the clouds flicking and glittering off their vast blackness, and then started forward. The islanders scattered out of his way, offering him a path to the stage stairs. I wondered how many of them—maids and gardeners to the dragonkin—already expected this to be the year the Alpha of Bleake Isle chose his omega.

I hoped he did, although I never did decide on which of the others might be best for him. I hoped he ignored the scents of the betas, dismissed Adelaide and her pure rosy fragrance, and shocked us all.

His gaze landed on me as he marched up the stairs, and I offered him a smile, feeling something like a co-conspirator of his now. He didn't answer it with one of his own, but I'd never seen him smile much in our company this past month and his eyes glittered darkly back at me.

The bubble of excitement blended with the discomfort of the night before, and I breathed slowly as black boots landed heavily on the floorboards of the stage.

Lord Cadogan spun suddenly to face the crowd, and they gasped in giddy surprise. Both times I'd watched the selection as a girl, our alpha had more or less gotten the business over with in an unenthusiastic procession down the line. Already, this year was different.

"What do you think? Is my omega amongst this year's young women?" His voice carried naturally, not a demanding boom, but as weighty as the massive wings of his dragon as they beat through the air.

The audience cheered their yeas, eyes bright with excitement, and I heard more than one "Miss Brys" amongst the shouts.

"I think so too," Lord Cadogan said lowly, turning to face us again.

But who? I thought, surely the only person in the entire field in any doubt of the outcome.

The stage trembled under his steps. So too did we omegas. Sophia on my right was breathing in short, nervous gasps. Katherine on my left was vibrating with tension. She'd been marked by William Aspley, and I'd noticed what seemed like genuine affection between them this season. He was as scholarly as she. Was she eager to see him, or anxious?

My stare was aimless as he approached from the right. I was as much a spectator of this moment as the audience, and I wished I could've been standing up against the ledge of the stage like the human shopgirls, admiring the dragon who paced in front of the omegas, waiting for him to grab one from the line.

His steps stopped, and it took me a beat too long to realize he was blocking my view, the pearl buttons of his white shirt winking at me. My eyes widened, and my chin lifted to stare up at him. But the moment I did, he moved on, the leap of my heart into my throat so absurd, so unnecessary, that I wanted to melt down into the floor.

How for a moment could I even have imagined he might…?

The crowd held its breath as he reached Adelaide, the collective so quiet, his sniff was audible. And then came the echo of his foot on the floor again, followed by a slight general gasp as he moved past her.

At my right, Sophia's eyes were huge, her mouth parted on an O and she leaned forward, gawking down the line before straightening again. He was turning around, coming back the way he came.

I appreciated his sense of the dramatic, but who? Who would he choose? The shocked draw of breath was louder as he passed Adelaide again without even bothering to pause. In fact, his steps were picking up, approaching.

My shoulders drooped as I realized he'd made a more sensible choice altogether—to not take any of us. No one would notice my own rejection, not in the wake of Adelaide's, but I had hoped he might do something a little more exciting. Even pliable Francesca⁠—

I blinked as he stopped in front of me again, towering over even my height, his wings blocking me from view.

"What are you—?" I whispered, but my words turned to stone on my tongue as he bent slightly at the waist. My head fell back automatically as his face neared me, offering my throat, the combination of omega instincts and shock leaving me powerless.

His breath was heavy on my neck, like a stormy wind in my ears as he inhaled deeply, the audience so surprised, so confused, they joined him in the sudden breath.

Don't be sick. Don't be sick. Don't be sick, I chanted to my rioting stomach. Oh, to be sick on Mr. Evans was a blessing, but on the alpha? I would sooner throw myself off the cliffs.

Large hands circled my waist, bracing me, as Lord Cadogan took another deep inhale. I have no perfume, I wanted to say, my head so far back on my shoulders now I was watching the clouds float gently overhead. He exhaled, and his breath was as hot as dragon's fire on my throat, down into the collar of my dress, stroking my breasts and making them heavy.

He's making a joke, I thought, and my whole body ached with the bruise of the knowledge. He will walk away, leaving Adelaide feeling as though even I might be better than her.

He took another breath, and I wanted to strike him but I was boneless. His nose was right against my skin now. He would hear how hard my heart hammered, feel my pulse jumping.

I was going to be sick. The worst possible addition to this baffling and humiliating moment.

His nose stroked my throat, and I shuddered, his hands holding me more firmly in answer. His head lifted, and I could not bear to look him in the eye, keeping my gaze on those passing clouds, his handsome and cruel face hazy at my periphery. Was that a smile on his lips? My chest was burning up, and I wondered if an omega had ever breathed dragon's fire before.