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“You’re the leader of the crazy cult my mom is in?”
“I was.” Sorin frowned, not sure he’d call it a cult but unwilling to argue over semantics. “After what happened, the Vanguard is in shambles, and if there are any active factions remaining, they have made no attempt to make themselves known to me… and I can’t say I blame them.”
“Christ on a cracker.” Nate pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a migraine coming on. “But you know what? It doesn’t even surprise me that she was involved in some underground resistance fighting against literal dragons. When I was little, I thought she was unhinged for all the weird stuff she said and did, but I kind of get it now. The Pedigree is an abomination.”
“Which is what I’ve been saying for years,” Matthieu said. “I’m glad someone was doing something about it, even though no one ever stepped in to save me. Hearing what I have today has only strengthened my resolve to make sure the remaining cloisters are shuttered. Tradition or not, no clan should be able to hold people against their will, nor force them to breed with men they have no interest in. The Vanguard took action in a way that those of us trapped inside the cloisters could not, and I hope in time, once this mess has been resolved, they might be persuaded to reform to continue to fight for freedom… although, perhaps this time within the boundaries of the law.”
Misha’s eyes flashed, but before he could speak, Matthieu wagged a finger at him.
“And before you interject,” he said, “I will remind you that based on what we have been told, the Vanguard’s goal has never been to harm—only liberate. Sorin has told us they intended to remove you from your placement with your eggs, and I am inclined to believe his story. What happened was tragic, and you are entitled to feel whatever way you do about it, but at its core, I believe the Vanguard—and Sorin—are forces of good.”
“Yeah, screw the Pedigree,” Nate agreed. “I’m not saying I’m going to become my mother and climb the ranks of some cultish underground resistance movement, but I am all for tearing that shit down. You and Bertram are good in my books, Sorin. The new generation of Boudreaux are on your side.”
One eyebrow playfully raised, Matthieu held out his fist, which Nate immediately fist bumped.
“Insanity,” Misha muttered, although his tone had somewhat thawed. “And you, Finch? You were wronged by this man.”
Finch, who had been sitting quite politely without comment, made a sour face. “I was, indeed, wronged, and the situation I was put in was quite frightening, but now that it has been contextualized, I see why it had to happen the way it did.” He paused, wrapping his hands around his teacup uneasily. “And, if I am being entirely honest, apart from the fear I felt in the moment of the ‘attack,’ I have not struggled with any kind of lingering negative trauma stemming from the crime committed against me. In fact, the outcome of that evening turned out in my favor, and I find myself hard-pressed to harbor much bitterness about it at all.”
Misha’s eye twitched.
“Will you ask me what I think next?” Peregrine asked Misha, nearly sparkling with excitement.
Misha turned the full ire of his gaze onto him. “I do not need to,” he said flatly. “I already know what you will say.”
Peregrine lifted his teacup and sipped, hiding a dazzling smile.
Sorin, meanwhile, awkwardly watched the conversation unfold. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said hesitantly, “and I don’t mean to give you the wrong impression, but… what’s happening right now? I’m a little lost.”
“You are not the only one,” Misha grumbled. “But I suppose we will have to find our way forward together, because the group has determined that you and your mate are innocent of the crimes you have committed, which means I will not be killing you. Yet.”
“More than that,” Peregrine said, putting down his tea, “as a Drake mate, you are now officially one of us. A member of the Dragonet Club. We meet regularly for polite conversation and snacks.”
“And also to pawn the kids off on their dads for a while,” added Nate with a grin. “When you’re back in Aurora, you might wanna hide anything fragile in anticipation of us coming over. Things can get chaotic pretty quick.”
Sorin shook his head. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to take you up on it. We’re not going back to Aurora. Not ever. We’ve decided we’ll raise our family here, outside the rule of the council.”
“Family?” Peregrine inquired.
Sorin’s cheeks reddened. “We’re… expecting.”
“I see.” Peregrine’s smile became somewhat strained, but after a moment’s consideration, it perked back up again. “That is wonderful news. Congratulations, darling. I am very glad for both you and Bertram, and for the small lives yet to be born, but… would you kindly excuse me for a moment? All that terrible noise from the ATVs has given me a dreadful headache, and I think the only thing that will help is fresh air.”
“Oh, of course. Go right ahead.”
“Thank you,” said Peregrine, who then gave Sorin an absolutely stunning smile before climbing daintily to his feet and leaving the room.
With Peregrine gone, the conversation dissolved. Nate and Matthieu launched into a loud conversation about real estate—Nate was hoping to move into a large house—while Finch whispered something to Wally that made him smile and come out of his shell a little. Harry was silent; he spent his time staring at Sorin with interest and smiling warmly whenever Sorin looked his way, while Misha did the opposite. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed, he sneered at Sorin and made no effort to hide his displeasure about being in his presence. Still, Sorin couldn’t help but think that he had come around a little since they’d first met. His hatred didn’t feel as cutting as it had earlier.
Small blessings.
Although he supposed it didn’t matter what Misha thought of him, since after the Drake mates left, he would never see them again.
That thought sat sourly in his stomach all through tea, and persisted even as he was clearing away the dishes, his guests having taken their conversations to the sitting room. He had no ties to these omegas, he reminded himself as he ferried dirty dishes away, but being with them had made him feel like he had a chance at a normal life.
Like he wouldn’t always be a pariah.
But what he felt didn’t matter.
