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Her face freezes before relaxing into a surprised smile. “Well, well, well.” She slinks into the room, sitting in one of the chairs in front of my desk and crossing her ankles delicately. “I never would have expected this of you, Noah.”
“Expected what?”
“That you’d turn out to be the most like me,” she says in a dulcet tone. “You were always a bit too subservient for my tastes, but it appears you’ve grown up quite nicely.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins as one thought reverberates through my mind.
Well, I haven’t murdered anyone yet…
I don’t say that, though, and she doesn’t notice my lack of response, chattering on. “Anyway, I’m here because I have a recommendation for you.”
I raise my brows and wait.
“Can’t you show the least bit of enthusiasm?” she says in a deep sigh, considering me with a critical gaze. “You know, I didn’t plan this for you. It was Wyatt who should have been the Golden Alpha. But now, we’ve got no choice but to muddle through this together. Can you at least pretend to care about this very important responsibility?”
I bite back an exhausted groan—there’s the crux of my mother’s illness.
We always use words like that to describe her lately—illness, sickness—instead of far more accurate words like crazy and dangerous. Because it’s one thing for her to be a distant mother and a little detached from reality, but it’s quite another for her to release her son’s mate and murder her own.
If her last name was anything else, she would have been punished and released months ago. But since she’s Isolde Sage, she has the privilege of being labeled a confused, slightly deranged omega rather than a danger to us all.
All this because she was convinced that Wyatt was the second coming of the golden alpha—the key to setting Goldenrod free.
I’ve often wondered what she thinks it means for Goldenrod to be free. Free from the fence? The Order? My mind jumps to Rill’s threats of the real world, and how ill-equipped we are to deal with it. How would someone like her, so entrenched in the Order—fare in that mysterious place?
How would I fare?
“Thanks for the reminder that I’m not Wyatt,” I say tightly, shaking off my impending horror. “But where are you going with this?”
She smiles brightly, seemingly happy that I’m finally engaging. “It’s midsummer now. November will be here before we know it.”
“Yes?”
“You need to host a dinner for the head of the alpha council. Administrator Beebalm did it every summer.”
I cock my head. “Why’s that?”
“Honestly, Noah,” she hisses as her face falls in exasperation. “The delivery. The next one is in November.”
“Ah.”
Being a Sage, I’ve always known that Goldenrod received a delivery every spring and fall with the food and materials we need to survive.
But I never actually witnessed it until this past spring, right after Beebalm died. In the past, my father would only involve Wyatt since he was the oldest son and heir. But when Wyatt opted out of his responsibilities, I was obligated to oversee it.
I always knew it existed, but knowing something and seeing it are different.
Standing in the woods near the fence on that early spring morning, I watched as crates were moved from a giant vehicle into Goldenrod. Outside the fence, short people with sticks and loud voices shouted out orders to each other, but they mostly ignored me and the betas moving the crates away from the fence.
I did make eye contact with one of them, briefly. He tightened his grip on his stick and narrowed his eyes at me as if he were daring me to step out of place.
The sharp scent of belligerence wafting off him surprised me. He was so small; I could crush him easily. But I could tell he wasn’t scared of me.
No, he was disgusted with me.
Since that day, cracks have grown in my conscience, slivers of uncertainty that grow wider with each passing day.
“You should already know this,” my mother scolds, snapping my attention back to her. “Administrator Beebalm always hosted a midsummer dinner with the head of the council… Isn’t there a new one now? Who is it?”
