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“Thanks for the invite,” he said gruffly, eyes dancing around the entryway. “Should be interesting.”
“Er, we can’t accommodate all these guests,” I told him under my breath.
“Oh, they’re not here to eat,” he laughed loudly, waving away the three enormous alphas. “Chris, Cass, and Tor are here to keep lookout while Liz and I eat.”
I nodded and inwardly groaned. I didn’t want to ask why they thought they needed to keep “lookout.” But as long as they didn’t barge into the dinner, I didn’t care if they loitered around the garden.
Elizabeth, dazzling as usual, smoothed over Rill’s rudeness and complimented me on everything from the fit of my suit to the freshly polished floor as we walked toward the dining room.
But now, as I take my seat at the head of the table with Rill’s comment about “how this all works” hanging in the air, my heart sinks to my stomach as I realize it’s my job to explain that very thing.
Shit.
“Well, this is beautiful.” Joanna’s voice rings through the room, any leftover disgust at Rill disappearing from her expression as a bright smile transforms her face. “Thank you so much for having us, Omega Sage and Administrator Sage.”
Mother nods magnanimously, her eyes sparkling as she takes in Joanna. “You’re welcome. It’s been far too long since we’ve entertained. Especially such a pretty, young omega.”
“Thank you.” Joanna smiles brightly, obviously pleased by the compliment.
But we’re all quickly distracted as Marcus scoffs rudely, scowling down at his place setting. He grumbles something I can’t hear, blushing furiously.
I raise a brow at his strange behavior, and Mother briefly narrows her eyes on him. She recovers quickly, though, fixing another benevolent smile on her face.
“You live on … Spruce Street?” I ask Joanna and Marcus tentatively.
It’s a delicate question—the Sages don’t typically socialize with anyone who lives on Spruce Street.
It isn’t exactly a fashionable neighborhood, and my father always insisted we keep close to our kind. He was dead set against Wyatt mating with Camilla, who also grew up on Spruce Street.
I didn’t raise my son to mate with Spruce Street trash, I remember his voice, echoing from his study when we found out Camilla had called to Wyatt. The Maidenhairs are only a step away from betas, he’d said, a very short step.
I’m sure he’d be surprised that Marcus Catmint, who has the lowly job of managing the betas in one of the Cypresses’ warehouses, was able to infiltrate the alpha council.
Usually, the council was populated by the largest, most powerful alphas. But Marcus is short and stocky with thinning blond hair and wide blue eyes. They’re almost too large for his small face and give him a constantly wide-awake, frog-like appearance.
He must have had an omega at some point, but I’m not sure what happened to her. For as long as I’ve known him, it’s just him and his daughter, Joanna, an omega about Stella’s age with blue eyes like her father’s. By the looks of it, she’s leaning into her new social status, adorned in an expensive-looking silver satin dress and dangling silver earrings.
“Yes, we’re currently on Spruce, but we’ve been eyeing a house on Elm, right Father?” Joanna states excitedly. “It’s near Cypress House.”
Her eyes regain their starry quality as they focus on Elizabeth who tilts her head, her eyes searching as they comb over Joanna—it’s obvious she has no idea who she is.
Elizabeth is a bit of a Goldenrod legend with her beautiful face, long dark hair, and impeccable manners. She’s likely an influential figure to any omega of a certain age—especially Joanna, whose father worked for the Cypresses for so long.
“Well, we’d love to have you over for tea once you get settled,” she says, flashing a brilliant smile. “Isn’t that right, Rill?”
Rill, with a confused expression, barks loudly, “What?”
“I would love that!” Joanna gushes, eyeing her father excitedly and ignoring Rill. “I mean, we would love it.”
“Yes, my dear.” Marcus smiles tightly, patting her on the hand as another awkward silence falls over the room.
“Well … it’s … nice to have you all here,” I clip out awkwardly.
Elizabeth nods slowly as if I said something supremely interesting. “Yes, Noah. Thank you so much for having us. Isolde, I love what you’ve done with the dining room. It’s so bright and cheer—”
She’s interrupted by a loud, reverberating groan, which I quickly realize came from Rill.
“Sorry, love,” he apologizes to his mate’s appalled face. “All these pleasantries and shit are just too damn painful. I think we’ve got more important things to talk about.”
