I blink at that, because it hadn’t occurred to me how this plays in the weird, regressive corners of royal discourse. “They’ll try to break us up.”
The room falls silent for half a beat.
Kellen meets my gaze. “They can try.”
Nolan, to his credit, is already in full tactical mode, checking the windows and securing the doors. “If they want you at the palace, we need to leave now.”
“Piper’s not going alone,” Kellen says. “I’ll come.”
Elliot shrugs, already in his jacket. “You’re not going without me, either.”
I stand, every muscle rubberized. “What about my?—”
“Bag’s already packed,” Nolan says. He’s just always that ready for anything, even a hot exit from my own nest in my own pack’s house.
None of us want this.But only a few powers move with more authority than packs and their bonds, and unfortunately, the king and queen are two of them.
For a second, I want to argueall of this, but my brain is still about six steps behind my body. All I can manage is a limp, “Okay.”
The manor’s foyer is pure chaos, with two Ravenwood agents at the door and a blacked-out SUV idling in the driveway. I don’t even remember walking to the car, but suddenly we’re inside, Nolan up front with the driver, me flanked by Kellen and Elliot in the back.
Kellen’s hand covers mine, thumb tracing circles on my knuckles. “It’ll be okay, Piper.”
I nod, then realize I’m crying. Not the big, operatic tears of tabloid photos but the kind that just leak out, slow and inevitable. I swipe at them, embarrassed.
It felt like everything was just finally falling into place. I never expected a pack, but we made the best out of a PRsituation and actually fell in love. Bonded as a pack. And then my music finally feels like it’s heading back in the right direction for me as well.
And now this.
Even if I walk out into public and own the fact that not only am I an omega, but I lied about who I am to hide it, and I’d still have to face this: Kellen’s parents don’t want someone less than royalty or high society as a match for their son.
I am neither. And neither are Elliot and Nolan.
The drive to the palace is only five minutes across the grounds, but it feels like a commute across the actual void. Kellen is scrolling his phone now. His jaw flexes with every new notification. Elliot holds my hand, not speaking, but every so often he’ll squeeze like he’s trying to anchor me in place.
Halfway there, Nolan gets a call on his earpiece. He listens, says nothing, and then turns to us, face grim. “Change of plan. The king and queen are meeting us at the gates. They’ve brought their own detail.”
“Let me guess,” I say, “they want to search me for bugged microphones and blackmail devices?”
Nolan’s lips twitch. “Wouldn’t put it past them.”
I’m not allowed to approach the gates myself—protocol, optics, whatever—but when we pull up, the king’s personal secretary is already there, along with a phalanx of palace guards. Kellen gets out first, and when I move to follow, Elliot puts an arm across my chest, gently but unbreakable.
“We’ll go together,” he says.
Nolan gets out last, jaw clenched.
The king and queen are standing under the portico like they’ve never in their lives stood outside in weather before. There’s a brief standoff while the two security details eye each other, and then the queen gestures us forward with the smooth efficiency of a snake lowering its jaw.
“Miss Sumner,” she says, and I can’t tell if it’s relief or contempt or both. “How considerate of you to come so quickly.”
My mouth is still sandpaper. “Did I have a choice?”
She smiles thinly. “We’ll speak in the study.”
I follow, conscious of every camera, every palace staffer pretending not to stare. Kellen is beside me, Elliot and Nolan close behind.
The study is soundproofed and smells faintly of expensive gin. The queen sits and gestures for me to do the same. “You’re probably wondering why we brought you here.”
