Chapter 31
Fern
Lucas escorted her down the hall, her bare feet cold and silent on the stone.
It had been raining for days, quelling the summer heat and finally making her lack of shoes a problem.
She knew she’d need to bring it up eventually. Anyone who already noticed had assumed it was some omega eccentricity and not a symptom of her alpha’s neglect.
Which was now to be carefully avoided thanks to Katreena’s “brilliant” solution.
Lucas stopped in front of Kyntha’s door, knocking to announce their arrival.
“Enter.”
“I’ll see you in one hour,” Lucas whispered in her ear as he opened it.
Fern gave him a small smile, her palms sweating and completely unsure of what to expect.
Darion and Kyntha were sitting on the divan. He was dressed as he had been for dinner, but she wore a revealing nightdress, cut so low she almost saw the entirety of her breasts while her legs were draped over his lap.
She was working on her needlepoint while Darion read a book on the history of a war Fern had never heard of.
Fern looked around for another chair, but none was to be found.
“Um…”
“Hm?” Kyntha said, glancing up. “Oh, there’s a spot for you here.”
She pointed with her toe towards a cushion on the floor beside Darion’s feet.
Fern looked at Darion, whose focus was still on the book.
“You… really mean to have me sit on the floor?”
Kyntha sighed, putting down her hoop and sticking the needle in the fabric so as not to lose it. “There is no room for you on the divan, obviously. And I would not have you on my bed.”
She looked at Darion again, pleading silently.
“Don’t be difficult, just sit,” he finally said to Fern, turning a page.
Sucking in a breath, she steeled herself for the humiliating solution Katreena had proposed.
Fern would not be in isolation as she had been before.
She was allowed to eat with the clan, but only on the opposite end of the table from Darion and Kyntha.
She could also move about the castle to pre-approved locations, so long as she had an escort who could take her back if Darion or Kyntha decided they required the space.
And, for one hour every evening, she would spend time with Darion and Kyntha, in Kyntha’s room. He could touch her, but only for comfort.
This would ensure Fern’s scent and needs would never overpower his future mate’s.
She’d rather have the isolation.
Fern lowered herself, sitting on the cushion and bringing her knees up to her chest, holding them and looking into the fire.
There was nothing to occupy herself with, but she had plenty of practice retreating into her mind.
She’d just about gotten into the headspace she needed to untether herself from reality when Darion’s hand on her head whipped her right back.
Fern wanted his touch, even though it felt forced—less like a lover’s caress and more like someone trying to pet a dog for the first time.
But it kept her grounded in a way that made it difficult to shut off her mind the way she wanted it to.
Her skin felt itchy, and she shifted on her cushion, trying to find a comfortable position. But no matter how she moved, it felt like there was always a pebble right under her.
Sitting with her legs straight out didn’t work. Curling up only made her knees ache.
Her hands… What should she do with her hands?
And then Darion began to purr, and her whole body melted.
She leaned back to rest against the divan, and her cheek fell on his leg.
He patted her again, and when he started to massage her scalp, and all hope of maintaining any dignity was lost that evening as she let loose the softest, most contented-sounding whimper she’d ever made.
Did Eidan and Reinn tell him this was her weakness?
She was about to close her eyes and submit to the bliss when Kyntha spoke, her voice harsh. “That seems excessive.”
Darion paused for a moment, causing Fern to want to whine. She even almost rubbed against his leg to beg him to continue.
And then he resumed. “This is the bare minimum as it is, my love.”
The feeling of his hands in her hair suddenly painful, Fern pulled away. She wanted his attention, his touch, all of it—but the reality of the situation rushed back in, leaving her cold.
Kyntha would always receive his love, while Fern would have to content herself with his bare minimum.
And even that was too much for Kyntha.
“I’m fine, I can go back now,” Fern said quietly.
“See?” Kyntha shook her head as she pulled the needle through. “Only ten minutes should be plenty.”
Darion slammed his book shut, growling and pinching the bridge of his nose. “There is only one threat to our growing bond, Kyntha,” he said, stopping to look at her. Then he shouted, “And it is your ugly pettiness!”
Fern and Kyntha froze, their fearful eyes stuck on the angry alpha they were both supposed to belong to.
“You are my priority, and I have made you my priority in everything I do. She receives crumbs compared to your cake, but you begrudge me even that!” He was standing now, chest heaving as he pointed at her.
Kyntha’s face was bright red, and she swallowed nervously as he continued.
“I will not have Ironcoats dictate who I can touch and when in my own godsdamned home!”
Their eyes locked in challenge, and Fern wondered if she’d ever seen Kyntha so angry at him before. But the fire doused quickly, and then Kyntha silently averted her gaze.
He waited a beat to be sure of her submission, then nodded once. “Move your feet,” he ordered.
She did so immediately, swiveling so they were now on the floor.
Darion retook his spot and then slapped his knee once, turning his attention to Fern. “Come.”
Fern knew there was no point in telling him she really did just want to leave, so she climbed onto his lap. Once she was settled, he took his book and began reading again.
Her wolf was proud, preening that she had their alpha defending her, but Fern knew it wasn’t much of a defense of her as it was himself.
And after seeing Katreena in action and knowing now how Kyntha was brought up, it only meant her retaliations towards Fern would become less obvious. More insidious. And that was far more dangerous.
But for now, all she could do was try to relax, so she lowered her head on his shoulder, sighing as his purr rumbled back to life.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, although she didn’t really know quite what for.
He kissed her absently along her hairline, and then turned the page.
* * *
One of the few rooms she was allowed to visit was a large conservatory, and she asked Lucas to take her there after lunch the following day.
A wave of warmth washed over her the moment she stepped through the glass doors, thick and oppressive after the cool stone halls beyond.
The rain had stopped that morning, and the summer heat had returned in full, the conservatory’s arched glass ceiling trapping it fully.
Moisture clung faintly to her skin within moments, as did the scent of damp earth and growing things.
Despite the heavy wetness in the air, she felt like she could breathe easier, surrounded by green life that reminded her of the forests outside her village where she’d spent so much of her childhood.
Stone paths wound between raised beds and enormous clay pots overflowing with herbs and flowering plants, while small citrus trees stretched toward the light filtering through the ceiling.
She found a lavender plant, and rubbed it between her fingers when frantic chirps and a flurry of movement caught her attention.
Moving down, she found a small bird, disoriented and in a panic.
“Goodness, how did you get in here?” she asked, looking around.
There were windows near the domed ceiling, cracked open for ventilation.
“Oh you poor dear, did you come in through there?”
The bird kept flying around in circles, unable to find the exit it needed.
Fern searched the room to see if there were any more accessible windows closer to her height, but found none. Even better, though, was a door to the outside.
She checked it, feeling relief that it was unlocked.
“Over here, little one!” she called, opening it as wide as she could.
But the bird was too scared to notice, and Fern began to worry it would accidentally fly into the glass and hurt itself.
She spied a scrap of burlap forgotten by a gardener, and picked it up, shaking off the loose dirt. Then she carefully approached the bird, holding it up and waiting.
Once it was close enough to the floor, she threw it on top, gathering the ends loosely so as not to squish it.
“Shh,” she soothed, the poor thing rustling and chirping in distress. Fern rushed towards the door, opened it again and then placed the burlap on the ground, flipping over one of the corners.
The bird flipped onto his feet and hopped a few times. And then finally it took off, a little wobbly at first, but straightening out by the time it reached the tree line.
Fern smiled as she watched it disappear, then took the burlap and headed back inside.
“I think that may be the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She yelped, clutching her chest as she saw a man with shoulder length silver hair standing by an orange tree, his arms crossed.
He looked so much like his sister it was almost frightening.
“A-alpha Cyran, a pleasure,” she finally managed to get out. Her gaze then fell to the door behind which Lucas remained. If he stayed at his post, he probably wasn’t too worried about Fern getting hurt.
But Fern was fully aware that the worst things someone could do to you rarely left visible scars.
She bowed her head as she walked towards the exit, giving him as wide a berth as possible.
It took only two steps for him to block her path anyway.
“Easy there, I mean no harm. I simply wanted to meet you.”
Cyran held out his open hands in a gesture of good will, a smarmy looking smile on his face that she was sure he thought was charming, although it had the opposite effect on Fern.
“I believe we met yesterday. Or was it someone else who spoke of mating me in front of my alpha?”
She regretted the words before they even left her mouth, wincing and looking the other way.