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When we’re done ordering the clothes, she asks one of the guards to catch us furs and coats, and insists that we go for another walk through the gardens. As we push out through the door, she says loudly, “Ugh, the latch on this damn thing never quite closes.”

I give her a look, and she smiles serenely at me, as though it didn’t completely seem like she was trying to give me a tip on how to get out.

As we walk, it occurs to me, “Those dresses are for you.”

“What?” Aurora says, eyes widening as she stares at me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re trying to help me escape. Ordering all those clothes—they’ll be left behind if I go, and you’ll get to have them. We’re basically the same size.”

Aurora glances over her shoulder, leans in and whispers, “Good goddesses, Mylah, sometimes there are things you don’t say out loud, yeah?”

I blink at her as she leans back. She’s going to help me escape—I can’t believe it. Somehow, I actually managed to find an ally here.

Granted, it does seem like Aurora is at least partially motivated by getting to keep all the clothes she’s ordered for me, but still. She doesn’t have to help me escape. It might be just as easy for her to claim something ridiculous, like that I attacked her or something, and have me thrown in the dungeon instead of getting the nice treatment in my own bedroom.

Later that night, there’s a quick knock at my door, then a scrape as something slides beneath it. I cross over to the door, blinking at the package sitting there for me.

It’s small, wrapped in brown paper.

For a moment, I think that it might be from Augustus, but when I lift it and catch its scent, I know it’s Aurora through and through. Swallowing, I go into the bathroom, lock the door, and pull the paper off.

Is this going to be something to help me escape? Maybe a real lock-picking set? Or the floor plan to the building?

But no—it’s neither of those. Instead, when I take the paper off, I find a book cover.

I’m hit immediately with the heady pleasure of getting books from my father, rejoicing when he would return from his trips to town. Opening various books and found escapes inside them, letting myself become a different person and transport to a different place entirely. While reading, I could look at the world through eyes that didn’t belong to me, and that was the most relieving thing of all.

Now, I turn this book over in my hand, studying the thick leather binding. It looks a little rough, like it was put together quickly, but I get the sense that it was made with love. It might not be the most beautiful book in the world, but it has a purpose.

There’s no title on the cover.

I open the front page and find scrawled in elaborate calligraphy: Your Guide to Omega Liberation.

Chapter 12 - Augustus

I go to see Mylah again the next day.

Again, I knock on her door, and again, she acts like she’s not going to let me in. Part of me wishes she wouldn’t. Then again, I’m supposed to be interrogating her. After my little show of “force” last night, the guards did the predictable thing and spread around the information.

This morning, during our debriefing, Kellen made it clear that he would encourage me to use my power as an alpha in any state-mandated affair. Essentially, he heard about my threat to compel her, and can’t possibly understand why I haven’t done it yet. That doesn’t matter—what matters is that the council believes I am interrogating her. That there’s a reason for her to be kept like this.

Strangely, I almost get the sense that even if I tried, Mylah would be able to resist me.

“Augustus,” she says, and I ignore the thrill up my spine at the sound of my name on her lips.

“Mylah,” I return, and she hesitates before moving to the side, allowing me to sit.

However, rather than letting me take the lead, she surprises me by speaking first, “You’re pretending to interrogate me. You’ve told someone you think I have information, though you don’t actually believe I do. Why?”

I just blink at her. Maybe it’s offensive, but I hadn’t expected her to be so bright. To pick apart the details of what’s happening right now so easily.

“I…” I start, but when I look to the side, I see the chess pieces askew again. Without thinking, I reach out and right them, turning the knight so he’s facing the battlefield.

“What is that?” Mylah asks, nodding her head toward the board.

I lift my eyebrows. “A chess board.”

Her face turns stormy. Mylah has an incredible face for expression—dark, thick eyebrows and expressive eyes. A strong, straight nose and the kind of full lips that can be mesmerizing to watch. When she frowns, it’s an entire production. Now, as she crosses her arms, I can’t stop the way my eyes dip to her chest, noting the way it accentuates her breasts.