"We've texted here and there since," Julian adds. "He checks in sometimes."
I turn to Calder. "You introduced them toyour uncle?"
"Of course I did." He says it like it's obvious. "Marcus is the only family member I actually trust."
Calder's expression softens immediately. He cups my cheek with devastating gentleness.
"I'm not keeping secrets from you, princess," he murmurs. "I was protecting you. I needed to know Marcus would be an ally before I brought you into it. Before my family could hurt you." His thumb brushes my cheekbone. "Everything I do is about keeping you safe.
"Okay," I whisper. "Let's not keep him waiting."
Calder kisses my forehead. "He’ll lecture us about family politics."
"Can't wait," Tyler deadpans.
Julian straightens his shirt. "We demonstrated stability under pressure. Now we prove sustainability over coffee."
"You make pack formation sound like a business presentation," Tyler says.
"To some people, it is." Julian looks toward where the Ashfords disappeared. "We're going to have to prove ourselves. Repeatedly. Are we prepared for that?"
I think of Margaret's pearls and Victoria's Maidenhill training and the vast gulf between my grandmother's cottage and what I imagine of the Ashford family mansion.
"No," I admit. "But we're doing it anyway."
Calder's hand finds mine. "Together."
"Always together," Tyler agrees.
Julian nods once, decisive. "Then let's go meet Marcus."
We gather our books and head toward town. Behind us, students whisper and stare. The story of Calder Ashford's mother bringing his arranged match to campus, only to watch her walk away, will be legend by nightfall.
I should feel victorious.
Instead I feel exhausted.
And a little afraid of what comes next.
30
CALDER
The walkto the café feels longer than it is.
My pack is giving me space to process, but I can feel their questions hovering in the air like autumn leaves waiting to fall.
I should have told them about the money. About the estate, the expectations, the privilege.
Elowen hasn't said a word since we left the quad. She holds my hand, fingers laced with mine, but there's something careful in her touch now. Like she's reconsidering the person she thought she knew.
I don't blame her. I've been living a lie of omission since the day we met.
The Ashford heir, playing at being just another student. Just Calder. No titles, no legacy, no weight of generational wealth pressing down on every decision.
Except that's not who I am. Not really.
And now she knows it.
