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Did they know I had never intended to be a princess? Of course. The Grand Rite was a tradition known by everyone here. I’d seen a few others at the equinox wearing smaller versions of my pendant, including the seamster who made my dress for the occasion. So there were others here who had participated, moved across continents at the behest of Freia to forge a new life that might lead to something larger than them. I imagine there were even more in the other cities, too. Sixty two iterations of the Rite meant a lot omegas moving across the continents.

Still, it would be selfish in the extreme to bury my head in the sand and continue to claim ignorance when this kingdom had no more say in me than I did in them. And, the reality was that I’d made the choice to stay here, to not go back to Arizona. Now that meant I needed to dig in and learn how to thrive here. Even if I’d never thrived in Arizona—not beyond keeping Sloane happy and whimsical and willing to follow her own dreams. She certainly didn’t need that of me here, though, not with her happily married in another kingdom settling in like it was as easy as breathing. But I could figure out how to thrive, to do that here, for the sake of these people relying on Callum to keep them safe.

Probably.

The garden was empty, the fountain’s splashing water and the happy chirps of songbirds the only sounds. I walked around the perimeter and toward the front doors of the home, easing them open and navigating the wide stairs down to the main road leading into town. This garden was a flurry of activity. The same people who had been putting up the ribbons and paintings for the equinox were now hanging bouquets of pomegranate blossoms, marigolds, and daisies from the arches. Tables were set on the lawn every other arch, chairs and linens already adorning them. In the center of each was an empty vase.

Stationed subtly around the garden were a few of the guardsmen, including Heath. He didn’t wear any of the finery from yesterday. Instead, he was back in the chest plate armor and utilitarian dark brown pants and boots, his daggers sheathed on his thighs and a sword at his hip. Nerves simmered just under my sternum at the sight, but I ignored them, taking in the rest of the garden instead.

At the base of the stairs was a utilitarian long table, filled to overflow with more flowers. Emma stood at one end, tying a jute cord around an arrangement similar to those already hung. Shelby and Amaria both sorted through the piles of flowers, pulling stems and slowly building bouquets in their hands before giving them to Emma and another servant whose name I didn’t know.

I descended the stairs and stood opposite Shelby.

“How can I help?”

Shelby glanced up with a warm smile, not taken aback at all. “Do you prefer flowers or painting? Or you could help some of the men hang the arrangements, I suppose. And I think Vincent’s still working on situating the banquet tables.”

“Wherever you need me,” I said. “Though I’m probably most comfortable with the drinks.”

Amaria looked up with a smile, too. “That’s right! You were a barkeep, right?”

When I nodded, Emma tilted her head in thought. “Are you all right to take over this?” She held up the bouquet she was tying together. “I could switch to helping with the painting with James. Once these are all done, we could work on the table arrangements the four of us.”

“All right,” I agreed easily, taking the bouquet from her in a careful hold.

“I’ve been setting the ones ready to be hung over here,” Emma said, pointing to a large planter probably designed for trees that was only full of water at the moment. “The florist laid a preserving charm on them before they were delivered, but the water helps, too.”

Then she demonstrated the knot she’d been using and the way she wove the extra ends through the stems so they wouldn’t be visible around the ribbons. She was a patient teacher, quietly helping me when my fingers didn’t quite manage the same motions as hers. After the third bouquet, she stepped away from the table, grabbing James’s elbow as he passed by us, a paintbrush in one hand and a bowl of dark purple paint that read nearly as dark as the indigo they’d used for the equinox decorations. They communicated with their eyes, that type of conversation developed between siblings—Sloane and I had it—and then continued down one of the covered paths together.

As I watched them leave, their heads close together, homesickness tinged with grief and melancholy roared through me, strong enough my hands shook and tears lined my lashes faster than I could blink them away. Shelby paused beside me and circled my wrist.

“You all right?” she asked, no louder than a whisper.

I wiped the stray tears on my arm even as I nodded. “Just missing my sister. I’ll be fine.”

Her gaze was even softer now, full of sympathy. Amaria leaned around her.

“Working helps me, too,” she said. “It keeps me distracted when I don’t want to think about things. Well, that and flying, but I don’t really like flying alone.”

“You can fly?”

She nodded, her cheeks darkening. “I can summon my wings at will. They’re very sensitive and honestly a pain to deal with when the spaces aren’t designed for them, so mostly I keep them away and only summon them when I want to feel the wind in my face.”

“That’s so cool,” I breathed, the arrangement of flowers in my hand momentarily forgotten. “Is it scary?”

“When you’re little and learning, absolutely. But now it’s mostly just thrilling unless the wind changes suddenly and the current drops away from you.”

Then we settled into a comfortable silence, working through the piles of flowers. When we were finishing the last few, Callum walked up on the other side of the table, dressed in one of the dark blue tunics, his circlet still pressed against his temples.

“Walk with me?” he asked.

Without a word, Shelby took the arrangement from me, tying the cord with a practiced ease I’d only just managed in the last half hour or so.

Callum didn’t touch me as he guided me onto the covered path to my right, the one that hadn’t yet had any of the bouquets hung between the arches. Heath silently followed a few feet behind us, a hand casually resting on his sword’s hilt. I tried to not let the sight bother me, but I couldn’t quite dispel the nervous tension.

“Are you well?” Callum asked after a minute.

I swallowed down the immediate ‘yes’ that sat on my tongue. If I was truly going to try and thrive here—and at the very least be a competent member of this kingdom—I couldn’t keep hiding behind the more comfortable answer. Instead, I shook my head. Callum paused, turning to me and circling my wrist. We’d gone nearly half the distance to the main road, the table of flowers nearly indistinguishable against the stairs and home.