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“It was one of the reasons he was always in a power struggle with Oreani. She believed pacifism was weakness, and preferred to maintain control over Vetri in the old ways. But fear is never the answer—empathy is.”
“It was the reason their marriage fell apart. Oreani always wanted to control him—she was his Alpha, after all, and he was duty-bound to agree with her. But his spirit didn’t allow it. Once Olympia was born, their contract had been fulfilled, and they didn’t need to see each other unless they wanted to. And Wellingtonreallydidn’t want to.”
“What contract?” I queried, watching as Mama slipped deeper into her memories.
“A mating contract, sweetheart,” she explained. “It’s rare these days, I suppose, but when we were mated, it was common enough, especially among royalty.”
“Did you and Sire have one?”
“We did,” she said with a nod. “I believe my copy would be in that desk over there. It’s archaic, if I were being honest. It’s a contract that’s meant to bind an omega to their Alpha, not the other way around. It dictates many things, the worst of which is the number of pups we have to bear in order for the contract to be valid. Oh, and their genders, of course. The Goddess forbid you have three omega pups.”
“What happens if one of you breaks the contract?”
The slim column of Mama’s throat tightened perceptibly.
“There is an option for the Alpha to return us to our families.”
“And if your mate were to break their vows?”
Her shoulders rose and fell in a dainty shrug. “The other party could request a separation, although it would not be to their advantage, especially if they’re an omega. Our spirits form an attachment to our Alphas, and separation is a physically painful process.”
A sigh rattled her frame. “In the long run, it is best to honor the contract.”
I nodded, hating the vulnerability that carved lines into Mama’s kin.
“We were trapped, you see. Both of us. It was what brought us together in the first place. I had long since accepted my fate, but not Wellington. Oh, no. He was a progressionist who didn’t believe in mating contracts. He’d fought his family on it, but they’d insisted. He wanted to marry for love, not politics, but he was too young to be taken seriously.”
“He couldn’t have been matched with aworsemate. Oreani was just like every other Alpha—overbearing, condescending and in his opinion, a terrible example of how modern Alphas should behave. But he tolerated her because hehadto, bending to her whims because her happiness decreed his.”
“When Olympia was born, Oreani was ecstatic. She finally had her heir—one with copper hair and blue eyes just like hers to carry on the Summerstream legacy. It was clear to Wellington that she wanted to raise Olympia in her own image, and that didn’t sit right with him. He was adamant that his child would be raised withhisvalues.”
“He taught Olympia the values of progressionism and pacifism, reading to her from books imported from High Nestia. In fact, Olympia learned how to read from King Artemis’ collection of articles on progressionism in the new world—just small words, of course. Here and there. But those were the ideals that she was raised with.”
“You speak very highly of your lover,” I remarked. “But I don’t see what all that has to do with the assassination attempt this morning.”
“Olympia is not capable of such violence,” she said resolutely. “It is one thing of which I am certain.”
I stared at my mother for several heartbeats as she rose from the embrace of the armchair.
“You see the goodness in everyone,” I censured with a shake of my head.
“And you see the worst of the Summerstreams. Why?” she rebutted, crossing the room to stand by my shoulder. “Why do you distrust them, sweetheart?”
“Because they are manipulative. They pretend to be allies,” I said almost automatically.
“How so?” Mama pushed, placing a hand on my arm.
I shook my head, looking away. The words seemed to be stuck in my throat like a fishbone, sharp and unyielding.
“You can’t voice what you feel because there is no evidence that the Summerstreams are manipulative people, Zoei.” Her fingers were soft in my hair, gently carding through the dark strands. “The Summerstreams aren’t manipulators, but your father was. He spoke badly about them consistently until you grew used to the idea of them being untrustworthy. It was his way of getting back at me for loving Wellington. I was forced to watch as he ruined the Summerstream family’s reputation.”
Her knuckles ghosted over my cheeks. “You were just a teenager—you didn’t know any better. And your sire was your idol, so you didn’t see fit to question him.”
It had always been clear that Sire’s own grievances had clouded his judgment and influenced his views on the Summerstreams, but I had never once considered I’d inherited his emotional wounds.
"It wasn't about them being manipulative," I mused. "But more about Sire’s own bitterness."
“Yes, baby.” She leaned forward to press a kiss to my forehead. The scent of mountain wine and lilacs twined around me like a delicate ribbon of memory. Her lips lingered there for a moment—a gentle, reassuring touch that tried to melt away the worries of the day.
