We were supposed to be safe out there. Alone, except for a small amount of staff. But this shot was taken through a window facing the water during the thunderstorm.
Kellen tilts his chin. “There was a thunderstorm.”
“Thunderstorm,” the queen repeats. “And the three of you needed”—she glances at the page then back up—“to cocoon Ms. Sumner?”
This is worse than an interrogation. It feels more like a performance review with the threat of exile. Because it kind of is. The performance: the story Kellen and I have been portraying to the public.
Elliot leans in. “Piper’s not used to how quickly storms roll in on the coast. It startled her.”
The queen’s left eyebrow performs a small coup. “You, Mr. Blaine, have not coddled anyone in your employ in six years. Why start now?”
Nolan stirs. He’s been trying to disappear into the furniture, but the queen’s gaze pins him. “My job is to keep Miss Sumner safe, ma’am. That’s what I did.”
“Of course.” She turns the page over. “So what do we call this? Professional concern? Or is this apackdynamic?”
Pack. She doesn’t whisper it; she lets the word bloom in the middle of the room, then waits to see if anyone flinches.
No one does, but I feel my pulse in my ears. Is she about to pull his entire PR stunt? Part of me wishes for that, so that the four of us can go ahead and live authentically. But I’m not foolish enough to believe that if that happens, Kellen will be made any kind of accessible.
“I can answer.” Although I’m not sure if I should. “They were comforting me. It wasn’t—” I gesture lamely. “It wasn’t a pack thing. I’m scared of thunderstorms, childish as it is. We’re not a pack, Your Majesty.”
The queen’s eyes cut through me. “Miss Sumner, you’renotthe one being questioned.”
I snap my jaw closed. Heat floods my face like someone’s turned a dial, and the room narrows to a pinpoint with the queen’s face at the center. My pulse drums in my ears—thud-thud, thud-thud—nearly drowning out whatever she says next.
The queen folds her hands. “I want to remind you, Kellen, that the entirety of the Hale legacy depends on you not embarrassing us. Your choices reflect on the throne. I’m not interested in tabloid fodder, but I am interested in the truth of the nature of your bond with Mr. Blaine, and how it relates to Ms. Sumner. What does this photo suggest?”
Kellen doesn’t answer right away. The PR woman’s pen hovers over her notepad, unmoving. The queen’s eyes narrow a fraction, her fingers tightening around the arm of her chair until the knuckles whiten. Elliot’s breathing has gone so shallow I can barely detect the rise and fall of his chest. Nolan shifts his weight behind me—the barest whisper of expensive fabric—and the sound seems to echo in the suffocating silence.
Kellen finally answers. “Mother, I love Elliot. You know that, and that I have for years.”
A tremor. The queen’s mouth is a perfect, angry line.
“But no, we’re not bonded.” Kellen swallows the lie thickly. I understand. If we’re to announce our pack bond, we should do it on our own terms with control, not let some tabloid photo do it for us. “And no one else is bonded either.”
I can’t let this hang in the air. “Why does it matter as long as Kellen’s happy?”
The queen turns to me. “Because the heir to the throne does not get to rewrite history just because they’re bored of it. Prince Kellen’s pack will be chosen from royalty.”
Which distinctly does not include me, making this entire PR-relationship wholly foolish on the Palace’s part. It’s designed to end in short order.
I’ve got news for them on that.This relationship isn’t going anywhere.
I want to scoff, but I’m nottotallydisrespectful. “Is that really how it works now? Because the last Omega Selection Day, three royal alphas took a commoner omega front of everyone.”
The PR woman behind the queen makes a noise, a small, strangled giggle. She’s immediately elbowed into silence.
The queen fixes me with a look I imagine she saves for errant prime ministers. “You think this is funny, Ms. Sumner?”
“No, ma’am.” My voice cracks.
“Then perhaps you’ll do us the courtesy of remembering your station. Everhart Pack are nobility and high society, not proper royalty like our family.” She turns her gaze to Nolan. “And you. You were meant to provide order, not chaos. If I see so much as a whisper of scandal again, your badge will be in my fireplace.”
Nolan meets her stare. “Yes, ma’am.”
My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into my palms. Heat flares up my neck as I shift forward in my seat, putting my bodybetween Nolan and the queen without even thinking. “Nolan was hired by me, not you. Years ago, mind you.”
Kellen shoots me a warning glare.
