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“I’m sorry,” I mutter, blowing a loose strand of my long, honey-colored hair out of my face. I twisted it into a side ponytail, but one stubborn strand flutters in front of my eyes. Giving up, I try for the empathy that Violet deserves from me. “I just...”
Violet reaches out, her hand brushing my arm. “I get it.” She sighs, gazing longingly at the castle as we draw closer to the front door. “Listen, if you really want to leave, we can go.”
“No.” I shake my head firmly, my resolve strengthening. “I made a promise, and I will keep it. I swear.”
Behind me, another omega speaks up. “Oh my gosh! You’re Seraphina.” I turn to look at the young woman, vaguely recalling she is a couple of years behind me.
“Hey…” I struggle to remember her name. “Why are you in line? Don’t you live here?”
In fact, a lot of these omegas reside here.
“Oh, the new dean sent us to town to get ready.” She giggles. “She booked out all the salons and dress shops and put it all on the council’s dime. She wanted us to have the whole experience, riding in a limo and pulling up the drive.”
“Wait.” Violet spins to glare at the girl. “You’re telling me I could have gotten all dolled up on the council’s dime?”
I shrug and mouth, “I didn’t know that.”
“Mm-hmm.” She shakes her head at me.
“Oh, look, the front door.” I step forward. I should have checked to see if the dean made plans, but I really don’t want to be indebted to them any more than necessary.
Violet and the omega continue to chatter away as we approach the door. Nerves flutter in my belly, and I swallow hard. Just inside the door, multiple mages hand out scent suppressants. I take one and pop it under my tongue.
“Here you go.” A gamma inside the door offers me a dance card and a small pencil with a warm smile. “Enjoy.”
I grab the card and tuck it into my small purse. Chatter rises around us as we step into the foyer, filled with gasps of awe. Behind me, Violet squeals with excitement.
They’ve truly outdone themselves in making this place appear magical. I can’t blame the new dean for wanting this.Why have a ballroom if it never gets used? I understand the sentiment.
The foyer opens up, revealing a grand staircase that splits at the second level, leading left and right. Two ornate railings overlook the foyer below. At the top of the stairs, double doors open into the atrium, illuminated by glowing twinkle lights creating a pathway through the garden. The castle is nestled up against a mountain, explaining its unique layout. They built it here for protection, to keep intruders out and omegas in.
To the left of the sweeping staircase lies a long hallway beautifully decorated for the ball. At the far end, a bar beckons, and two double doors lead into the ballroom.
“I want to go dance.” Violet tugs on my arm, her new omega friend trailing closely behind. “Come on.”
“Go ahead, I’m going to get a drink,” I tell her as we approach the doors to the ballroom, the entrance adorned with foliage and hanging flowers, their scent dominating the entire castle, at least for now.
“Girl.” She shakes her head. “This place is beautiful.”
“Go find an alpha dance partner,” I urge her, nudging her toward the doors where her omega friend awaits. “I’ll be right there.” A lie.
I’ve barely spent two minutes in this room, and I’m already itching to escape. Violet doesn’t pick up on my unease, her ability to sense it dampened by the scent suppressant dissolving under my tongue. I watch her vanish beneath the archway, then turn my attention back to the throng of people.
The doorway remains crowded, with most heading straight for the ballroom doors and a select few making their way to the bar. I inch along the wall, hoping to remain unnoticed, blending into the background. A few alphas loiter down this part of the hallway, but most pay me no mind, which suits me just fine. My goal is to reach the bar without drawing attention to myself.
I can play the extrovert when needed, but deep down, I’m a hardcore introvert. Given the choice, I’d opt for my cats, a heated blanket, and pillows any day over this social gathering.
As I near the bar, I spot a potential issue—they roped the area off, and a delta is eyeing me. Giving up on subtlety, I walk past him.
“Evening.” I nod to him, attempting to move on.
With a sigh, he steps before me, careful not to touch me. “Miss, I can’t let you go to the bar.”
“Why?” I question.
“Alphas only,” he says, his tone apologetic. “The dean doesn’t want omegas drinking tonight.”
My face falls. That woman. “You can’t be serious.”
