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“What I know about Gavyn?” I ask, widening my eyes at him. He can’t be serious. “Why would I know anything about him?”

Other than the obvious—clearly I know who he is and the fact that he just tried to kill me. But it’s not like I was close with the man. Other than that one time he came to visit my father, I’d never been around him before.

“Why did he try to sacrifice you?” Augustus asks. He’s unable to sit still, leaning forward and straightening one of the pieces on the chess table to his left.

“Well, from what I gathered,” I deadpan, “it was to get his son back. From you.”

Augustus frowns. “No—why you, specifically? Why not some other shifter in his pack?”

“First of all, I am not in his pack, and second, isn’t it obvious?”

Augustus just stares at me, dark eyes so annoyingly cute. I doubt other people see him that way. It must be the biology of our bond (my one-way bond, reaching to him) that makes him look more like a soft, cuddly puppy than a fearsome, killer wolf.

Okay. Apparently, it is not obvious.

“I was an easy target. Omega living on her own. No big, strong alpha to protect me.”

I’m not sure what’s come over me. The few times in my life I’ve been in an alpha’s presence, I’ve certainly never spoken to them like this. There’s something about Augustus that gets under my skin.

His expression goes from mild curiosity to something almost nearing indignation. “Why were you living alone? Was there no beta to claim you?”

“My father died. Last year.” I leave out the part about it being hell since then. How it was hard, even when he was alive, to feel safe. After that, every night was paranoia, waking up at two in the morning just to stare at the window, imagining every terrible thing that could be coming for me.

Specifically, terrible alphas.

Augustus swallows, looks down at his lap. Surprisingly, when he says it, I actually believe him. “I’m sorry. For your loss.”

“It’s okay,” I shrug. “He wasn’t the best dad in the world.”

Augustus lets out a laugh, then coughs, almost like he didn’t mean to. This time, when he meets my eyes, there’s a sense of recognition there. Far more than I got at the festival, or when pressing the issue in the bathroom.

I’ve only vaguely heard about the previous king of the North pack, but I assume Augustus must know a thing or two about lacking fathers, too.

Suddenly, thinking about the atrocities the previous king committed, I feel compelled to defend my father. “I mean, he wasn’t purposefully cruel. His frustration was warranted. Even I wouldn’t want to have an omega daughter, and I am one myself.”

“That seems cruel,” Augustus mutters, frowning once more. I don’t like it when he frowns—it makes his dimples disappear. “To admit to not wanting your own daughter.”

“What, your father never said he didn’t want you?” Augustus meets my eyes again, and I lift mine to the ceiling to let him know I’m only joking. “Obviously he wanted you. You’re a powerful, capable alpha.”

“Doesn’t always feel like that.”

He stands quickly, shakes his head. Like he didn’t mean to say it, and wishes he could take it back. Again, he clears his throat, looks hard out the window for a moment. Then, raising his voice, he says, “If you won’t give up the information about Gavyn freely, I’m going to have to compel you to do it. Think long and hard about that.”

And, with that, he turns on his heel and walks toward the door, leaving me even more confused than when he first knocked.

***

Aurora comes to visit me the next day.

I am free of the nightgown—which Aurora insists on taking and says she’s going to burn, but I’m pretty sure she just throws away—and have a whole new wardrobe of clothes. At first, they’re just some hand-me-downs from Aurora herself that arrived at my door shortly after Augustus left. Sweatpants and old T-shirts. Soft clothes that are well-worn and yet still nicer than anything I have ever owned.

Then, on the first day after I meet her, Aurora comes to my room with a laptop and sits criss-cross on the bed, patting the spot next to her.

“What are you doing?” I ask, because it’s better than you’re allowed to have a laptop?

“Augustus wants me to get you some clothes,” she says, giving me a wicked grin. “I never have unfettered access to the funds like this. We’re going to have some fun.”

And so we sit on my bed together while Aurora orders piece after piece, often making me stand up and turn so she can “imagine” me wearing it. Aurora buys me everything from leggings and soft, pastel sweatshirts to elaborate ball gowns, no matter how many times I tell her that I will never have a reason to wear the latter.