Chapter 33 – COSIMA
COSIMA
My mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, and I'm pretty sure I look like a complete fucking dumbass, but what the hell am I supposed to say to future daughter-in-law?
Queen Amaya's eyes crinkle with amusement at my obvious confusion. "Oh my dear, you look positively stunned. Come, sit. We have so much to discuss."
She waves a hand, and servants materialize from nowhere like they've been summoned from the shadows.
Within minutes, they've arranged an elaborate spread on a low table surrounded by floor cushions that might well be made of spun gold.
And the food they're laying out… holy shit.
Golden pastries that smell like heaven, fruits I've never even seen before, meat so perfectly cooked it's practically glowing, and wine that catches the light like liquid rubies.
"Please, everyone, make yourselves comfortable," the Queen says, gracefully lowering herself onto a cushion with the kind of elegance that makes it look like she's floating rather than sitting.
We all exchange glances before awkwardly following suit.
Knight has to practically fold himself in half to sit on the cushion, and even then he towers over the rest of us.
Geo winces as his injured knee protests the position, and Nikolai eyes the food like it might be poisoned, but he seems hungry enough that he's thinking about it anyway.
The servants are all eyeing Knight warily. So is Prince Revi, for that matter, but even if I'm sure the Queen has noticed something is amiss about the giant alpha, she maintains the mask of the perfect hostess.
"Don't," Geo growls under his breath to Nikolai, who's already reaching for what looks like some kind of glazed meat.
Nikolai jerks his hand back, hissing, "I'm not a fucking animal."
"Could've fooled me," Geo mutters.
I kick them both under the table and Prince Revi chuckles into his wine.
Plague clears his throat, his usual formal mask sliding into place. "Your Majesty, if I may explain. I've been evaluating these alphas as potential replacements for—"
Queen Amaya waves him off with the casual authority of someone who's never had to repeat herself in her life.
"That can wait, my dear. Right now, I want to get to know Azarel's lovely mate and her.
.." She trails off, her gaze sweeping over my alphas with obvious curiosity.
The pause stretches, and I can feel them all holding their breath, waiting to see how I'll define whatever the fuck this is we have going on.
"My pack," I say firmly, meeting her eyes with more confidence than I feel and trying to pretend I don't notice the alphas preening around me. "But… Your Majesty, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not Azarel's mate."
Not anymore.
Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows rise in surprise. "No? But I assumed that's why he's been staying in Reinmich all this time. Surely there must be some connection between you?"
I feel heat creeping up my neck. "We were.
.. involved," I say, choosing my words carefully.
"But I have no idea why Azarel is in Reinmich.
" The bitterness seeps into my voice despite my best efforts to choke it down.
"And I'm sure he didn't stay because of me, considering until recently, I didn't even know he was a prince. "
The Queen's eyes widen. "No?"
"No," I say flatly. "Which is why I came here. For answers." I pause, letting a wicked smile curve my lips. "That, and revenge."
"Revenge?" The confusion and wariness in her voice, as if she's weighing whether she needs to call for her guards, would be amusing if I wasn't still processing the whole future-daughter-in-law bombshell.
But I know better than to think that means Azarel actually told any of his family about me willingly. "For what, my dear?"
I look directly at Plague, who's suddenly found something fascinating about the embroidery on his sleeve. A dry laugh escapes me. "Oh, he didn't tell you?"
Plague shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and I can practically feel him willing me to shut the fuck up.
Too bad for him.
"Your son and his merry band of masked vigilantes kidnapped me and used me for ransom in their war," I say sweetly, watching Plague's jaw tick. "So I thought it was only fair I returned the favor."
The transformation is instant. Queen Amaya shoots to her feet so fast her robes billow around her like storm clouds as she whirls on Plague.
"You did WHAT?!"
The Surhiiran that pours from her mouth next is too fast and too furious for me to catch more than every third or fourth word, but the gist is crystal fucking clear.
She's pissed. Beyond pissed. She snatches a decorative palm leaf from the table arrangement and swats him on the arm with it to accentuate her final point.
Knight makes a soft growling huff sound that might be laughter. Raven and Geo are clearly fighting their less civilized impulses, but Nikolai actually lets out a howling laugh.
Yep. Animal.
And I have to take a gulp of my wine before I join him.
But then, Prince Revi himself barks out a laugh of his own, smacking his knee. "Well, well, well, if the golden son hasn't finally incurred our mother's wrath!"
I don't have siblings, at least none that I know of, but I can imagine how satisfying that probably is. Love that for him.
"You don't understand," Plague sighs, shooting his brother a withering look and not even trying to defend himself from the botanical assault. "We were in the middle of a war. She's Arthur Maybrecht's daughter."
"I don't care if she's the daughter of the great serpent himself!" The Queen's voice could strip paint. "Did I not teach you better than that?"
Plague's jaw works like he's chewing glass. "I'm sorry," he says stiffly, each word clearly costing him.
"Don't apologize to me!" She points the bent palm leaf at me. "Apologize to her!"
When Plague looks at me, I flash him the wickedest grin I can muster. His eyes narrow with exasperation, but there's the faintest hint of amusement there. He knows I've bested him.
"My sincerest apologies," he grits out.
"Oh, I humbly accept His Majesty's most gracious apology," I say in my most syrupy sweet voice, batting my eyelashes for good measure.
I'm about as sincere as Plague is.
The Queen waves dismissively. "None of this formality. We're close enough to family." Before I can process that statement, she's come around the table and is taking my arm with surprising gentleness. "Come, my dear. We're going for a walk."
"Wait—" Nikolai starts to stand, and the other alphas shift like they're about to follow, too.
"I'll be fine," I insist, though the idea of being alone with Azarel's mother makes my stomach do uncomfortable flips. "Eat something."
As I follow the Queen out of the grand hall, it occurs to me that I probably should have specified to eat the food on the table and not the attendants. Valid concern with Knight, but it's a little too late for clarification.
Worst case scenario, I guess he'll go for Plague.
The Queen leads me through an archway into gardens that make everything I've seen so far look like a wasteland weed patch.
Paths wind between fountains with crystal clear water that tinkles like music, flowers in every color imaginable perfume the air, and trees heavy with ripe fruit provide glorious shade from the late afternoon sun.
It's paradise.
Or as close to it as this fucked-up world gets.
Once we're far enough from the throne room that I'm sure we won't be overheard, guilt starts gnawing at my insides.
I might despise no less than two of her sons, but the Queen has been nothing but gracious to all of us.
"Your Majesty, I need you to understand something.
I don't want you thinking this is something it isn't. That I'm someone I'm not. "
She turns to me with a knowing look that reminds me so much of my own mother it hurts. "You love my son."
It's not a question.
"A mother knows," she adds gently when I don't immediately respond.
The truth burns its way up my throat. "I do. At least, I love the version of him I thought I knew."
Understanding softens her noble features. "My sons have always kept parts of themselves compartmentalized. Hamsa and Azarel especially." She sighs, looking out contemplatively over a bed of white roses. "I can't say I'm surprised, given the way their father was."
The opening is too tempting to ignore. "Their father... is he...?"
"Passed," she says simply. When I automatically start to say I'm sorry, she cuts me off with a gentle laugh. "I'm not."
At my shocked expression, she laughs again, though this time it's tinged with something darker. "That sounds terrible, doesn't it? I loved my husband, in a way, but he was not an easy man to love. And he was far more difficult as a father."
"I understand better than you might think," I admit, thinking of Arthur Maybrecht and his particular brand of paternal manipulation and brutality. It sounds like that's one thing Azarel and I have in common, after all.
Not that he ever shared that with me.
Somehow, that hurts more than all the other omissions.
"Tell me about yourself, Cosima," she says, linking our arms together as we walk deeper into the gardens. "I'm curious about everything. Your life, your family, how you met my son."
"There's… not much to tell, really," I say with a shrug. "Like Plague said, my father is Arthur Maybrecht. I grew up in Reinmich under the old regime. My mother was Vrissian," I add, the words coming out quieter than intended.
"Ah, our neighbors to the north," she muses. "A beautiful land."
"I never got to see it," I admit. "She died when I was young."
The Queen's arms tightens slightly around mine. "That must be so painful, not knowing that part of who you are. Where you came from."