32. Ivy
A ges have passed since I was last in Cillian’s quarters—at least it seems that way given how much has changed in a single day.
Yesterday I awoke to my new husband’s lips on my body. With each whispered word and ounce of pleasure he bestowed upon me, the kindling of new love was set ablaze. I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect start to our new life together. But that happiness ripped from when I learned of Cillian’s lies.
He sold me a dream this past year. All the while letting me place him on some pedestal of epic proportions.
My intended was so sweet—so charming and thoughtful to court me through correspondence. Little did I know he was omitting important information that affected me and our future.
He hurt— deeply . After all I’ve endured because of my father’s dishonesty and treachery, I wanted nothing more than a partner who wouldn’t dream of deceiving me. I believed that was what I had with Cillian and I don’t know how to forgive him for tarnishing that.
Still, when Oran and I enter the drawing room, I can’t deny that my body—and my heart—don’t want to be at odds with Cillian.
He looks awful . Well, as awful as someone that beautiful can look. Dark circles rest under his eyes; his sallow complexion tells me he likely didn’t sleep a wink.
My heart twinges at the notion that he was so distraught.
It’s maddening, a bit, to have a scent match. As much as I deserve to be angry, I can’t stand the thought of him hurting. And then his scent—like breathing in the fresh air off the ocean cliffs. Salt and sea and freedom. I want to bury my nose in his neck and sniff until I’m drunk on it.
Amusement sparkles in my chest, a little pull down the bond from my handsome gardener who stands next to his packmate, a broad grin on his face. He can guess at my conflicting emotions. Though I know he’ll support me in my choices, I’m sure he’s pleased that all hope is not lost for Cillian and me.
“Good morning, darling,” Cillian says, wincing straightaway. Just as I do.
Somehow the endearment feels different than it did yesterday—like poking a bruise that’s only just begun to heal.
“Good morning.”
I walk toward them, and Sloan steps forward to pull my chair out. He drops a kiss to my temple, lending me support with his fresh scent. “I missed you,” he whispers, reaching up to thumb at my bond mark.
I gasp, overcome by a new wave of desire—just the same as when Oran did it. It’s not fair that they should have such easy access to making me light up.
“I need to spend more time on this,” he chuckles. “Didn’t get to tend to it enough.”
“You tended to it, plenty, greedy alpha,” I chide, kissing him softly before I take my seat.
Oran and Cillian stare at the two of us with yearning in their eyes.
Shit .
I didn’t mean to throw this in their face. It’s just, everything with Sloan is so new and shimmering. I feel such a draw to him now that we’re freshly bonded.
Cillian swallows, his eyes dropping to my neck. “That is very pretty, omega. Silver is such a lovely color against your skin.”
Pride flares from both Sloan and I.
It is quite lovely.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I try my hand at civility, as opposed to familiarity, while I attempt to sort out my head.
Cillian obviously hates that, his shoulders sagging. “Ivy, please?—”
“Please, what?” I snap. “I’m upset with you.”
Sloan reaches out to me, grabbing my hand to settle me. “Why don’t you let him explain some things, petal? Then we can answer any questions you have and address your feelings.”
I sigh, nodding as I do my best not to do something childish like stick my tongue out at him. He’s so sensible, my Sloan, when all I want is to lash out.
It’s bizarre to be sitting with the three of them at once—so very different from anything I would have realistically expected for my life. I almost want to laugh. \
It’s as though I’ve been stolen away from my reality and plopped into a fairytale. Like here in the lush kingdom of Namara, magic exists and I can have every dream in my heart come true.
“Well, I’m listening,” I say, a little more curt than is probably necessary.
Cillian breathes in deeply, steeling himself when he looks me in the eye. “Did you know my mother was born a commoner?”
I blink and shake my head, certain I’ve never heard that before.
“Right, well…” Cillian says. “My mother worked in the castle, in the kitchen to be exact. She was very beautiful, you see. An omega. And so kind. She was well-loved and unfortunately for her, she caught my father’s eye. He became obsessed with her but she knew better than to expect a young king would throw away his prestige and marry her. So she spurned his advances time and time again. It drove him mad, knowing he couldn’t have her. So mad that he broke his betrothal and demanded my mother marry him.”
I listen on, intent. It sounds...unsettling, the way he’s describing it. Not like some whirlwind love.
“And what choice did she have?” Cillian continues. “He was the king. And handsome, and at the time not?—”
“A massive prick,” Sloan grumbles, inserting some levity into the tense.
“Exactly.” Cillian nods. “My mother agreed to marry him, and soon after, she fell pregnant with me and my brothers. With three heirs to the Namarian throne, my father was ecstatic. All was well—for a while.”
“But?” I ask, sensing this is where his story is meant to explain his odd behavior.
He hesitates, looking to Oran and Sloan and back to me with concern creasing his brow.
“My mother got very ill when Ciaran, Cal and I turned eight.”
I hum in understanding. It’s a similar story to my mother. And to many of the omegas at court. A tragedy really.
“She didn’t grow up as you and I did, so she was aware that this illness wasn’t... normal.”
I quirk a brow, confused. “How so?”
Oran clears his throat, his emerald eyes meeting mine. “Ivy, have you ever noticed that the staff here are much older than any alpha or omega you’ve seen at court? How their hair turns gray—their skin wrinkles. Can you think of the last time you saw a royal, or a noble for that matter, mature to such an age?”
I scoff. “Of course I can. Well, surely—” But as I wade through the recesses of my mind, I can’t find a single memory of any such person.
Sloan tightens his grip on my hand, as if preparing for some momentous realization to knock me down.
“My mother was so ill, Ivy,” Cillian chimes in. “Just as your mother was ill. And Oran’s. And every single person’s mother I’ve ever known. Besides Sloan’s and the common folk working in the palace.”
I don’t understand. I don’t like riddles and skirting around something that’s starting to feel more important than whatever reasoning I made up for Cillian’s deceit.
He goes on. “And our fathers too. They all died after their bonded mates passed. All driven mad. Slowly deteriorating. Oran’s father may still be alive, but it’s been five years. I imagine that things will take a turn for the worse soon. How long after you lost your mother did your father pass?”
“Not even a year.” I’d assumed the guilt of how he treated her drove him to an early grave. That for once in his life he realized his actions had consequences and he was overcome with grief.
Cillian nods, a frown forming. “It varies, but I’ve yet to see anyone live a decade after the death of their bonded mate.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” I ask, flustered over the direction this conversation is taking. Anxiousness is clawing at my chest, making my head swim with unpleasant thoughts of the unhappy home my parents made for us—of all the grief Hawthorn had to bear because of their deaths. He was too young to be king. Too young to become a parent to his siblings.
“I don’t mean to upset you, darling, it’s just... This is important and not pleasant to hear. I promise it will make sense soon. Is it all right with you if I continue?” Cillian asks.
Hesitantly, I nod. Sloan’s thumb strokes the back of my hand—a grounding force when my head feels chaotic.
“My mother knew this wasn’t right. Her mother had not gotten so sick. Nor her grandmother. No healer my father had at the castle could come up with a reason for her deterioration. But my mother knew what was wrong, deep down.”
Cillian’s eyes are filled with so much sorrow, and I wonder if he loved his mother. If she was good to him and his brothers.
“What was it?” My voice sounds small as the question hits my ears. I don’t like this feeling. This helplessness that’s creeping over me.
“Did you know that the staff here—that common folk across the kingdoms live in packs?”
I huff, clearly that answer is a deflection to what I asked. “Well, of course I know that. I’m not stupid, Cillian.”
“Of course not, omega. You are not stupid, but like the rest of the people in our station, we’ve been misled. Omegas need more than just one alpha—not just for their heats, but to feel the constant love, support, and nurturing that is the basic requirement for someone of your designation. It’s not just something omegas crave, but a necessity.”
“I—” I’ve always known it was natural for me to want more than one alpha. I wasn’t raised to believe such a thing. But in my heart I felt it to be true. Society, on the other hand, made me feel as though it was wrong.
Cillian hurries on like he’ll lose his nerve. “My mother knew she needed more than one alpha—that she was sick because of it. And when she told my father, he?—”
Oran reaches out, gripping his packmate’s shoulder and squeezing tightly. A move meant to soothe. It warms my heart to see them like that.
“He wouldn’t hear of it. He called packs barbaric, and said she was greedy, lecherous, and all things one should never say to any omega—much less their bonded mate and the mother of their children.”
Tears form, clogging my throat with thick emotions. Grief. Despair. I’m heartbroken for his mother—angry that Cillian’s father could be so callous.
“That is terrible,” I whisper. It’s not much in ways of consolation, but I’m still trying to make sense of this all.
“It is,” my husband agrees. “It’s awful and cruel, but there’s more.”
“More?”
Cillian nods. “My mother continued to get sicker. She used to spend her days with my brothers and me. She was so kind—loved us so much. But my father shut her away from us, from all of the court while he carried on as if nothing was wrong. I had to sneak into her chambers just to see her. Ciaran cried so often. Cal ran away many times. It was terrible , but at the time I didn’t know why my mother was sick. I only knew she wasn’t getting better and we weren’t allowed to ask about her health.”
I hate his father—that vile, despicable man. I hate him, and I’m happy he’s dead. I don’t much care if it’s polite to think so either.
“But there was hope. At least, that’s what I thought when I overheard one of my father’s guards tell him of a cure. I was curious about their conversation and hid myself so I could listen. Sir Ennis, a knight who had served my father loyally, was freshly back at court and happened upon my mother on one of the few walks she was allowed. He said he knew right away she was his scent match. He pleaded with my father to allow him to see her, bond with her, that he would remain a secret, and stay hidden so long as he could help save her.”
Cracks form in my heart. What a tragedy. An unfair cruelty she was suffering. “What happened next?”
“I was certain my father would be overjoyed to learn my mother could be made well again. I was too young to understand what Sir Ennis was asking. I’d only known about scent matches through stories. But instead my father laughed. He laughed , Ivy. He said he’d rather they both die than ever stoop to anything resembling a pack. He would never share his wife, his possession , with a common-born alpha. Or any alpha, for that matter.”
I hold back tears that threaten to break free. “Gods, Cillian, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right, darling,” he coos in an attempt to comfort me. “It’s just, I loved my mother very much, and I felt it was my duty to save her. For years, I tried to convince my father, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Until one day when I was fifteen, I instead tried to convince my her to leave. My father had sent Sir Ennis away, but I vowed I would help find him so they could have their pack and be healthy.”
“Why didn’t she go?”
Cillian sighs, saddened by it all. “She was bonded to my father. Even if he was a selfish bastard, she felt loyal to him, and she didn’t want to leave us. It was an impossible position, and soon after, she passed.”
Tears fall hot against my cheeks as I mourn a woman I didn’t know. One who obviously loved my alpha so much she was willing to die to stay near him.
“Don’t cry, love,” Oran says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a very familiar handkerchief. Silk, with vines of ivy decorating the border.
I startle. “Where did you get this? I had it with me—Cillian gave this to me.”
“Oran gave it to you, darling. Just as Sloan left you the flowers. Courting gifts from your alphas,” Cillian offers.
My heart. Gods, these alphas. These darling men. “Thank you for retrieving this for me. I didn’t realize I had lost it.” I say to Oran, dabbing at my tears with the precious gift.
His cheeks are pink—a shy sort of hesitancy in his demeanor. “This is just one of many I made, love. Not sure where the other is.”
“You made this? How?”
Oran is red up to his ears. “A year is a long time to be away from your Fate-blessed omega. Had to find something to do with my hands to keep myself sane. Thought you’d like pretty things made just for you.”
I can’t help the rush of perfume that fills the air despite the serious topic at hand. Oran is quite romantic. More so than I even realized and so very sweet being this shy.
“I don’t know what to say.” I look at him, then my husband, then my bonded. Each with adoration pouring for them in waves.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Sloan chuckles. “Just a small gift for our omega. It’s the normal way of things, Ivy.”
I smile, my heart fluttering. But there’s still something I don’t quite understand.
“If packs keep omegas healthy, then why are more people not speaking of this? Why is nothing being done?” I ask, trying to piece together the information they’ve laid out.
“Most people don’t know Ivy. Or if they do, they’d rather die young than break from tradition. Legacy over life.”
That’s insane. Absolutely asinine.
“My brother doesn’t know. If he did, he would never allow...”
Cillian hums, trying to keep me calm. “But we didn’t know that, darling. I’ve heard wonderful things about Hawthorn before meeting him, but the fact remains he was a royal of a very prestigious kingdom whose parents succumbed to the same fate as mine. I was terrified when I scented you, because I knew if I lost you, I wouldn’t be able to go on.”
“Why would you lose me?” I can’t imagine how finding a scent match would lead to loss. I’m not like his father.
“You were here for your visit, and we all realized the same thing—you were ours. I didn’t know how something like that would go over. You couldn’t scent us to verify the truth. What if you hated the thought and demanded to leave? What if you had been happy, but Hawthorn, like my father, found it beneath your prestigious name? Would he have rescinded our betrothal and taken you away never to let me see you again?”
My heart thunders at thinking of being taken away from him, from any of them.
“My brother is not cruel.” Is all I can manage.
“I don’t believe so either, but Ivy, this is so different from anything either of us has ever known. I wasn’t prepared to risk it. I forbade Oran and Sloan from telling you, from even being around you for fear that one of us would do something stupid and ruin everything.”
“ Forbade them? You kept them from me?” My pitch is rising, as is my anger, except it’s not at his father anymore, but rather at him.
Can he not see how wrong he was?
Cillian throws his hands in the air, a bit exasperated. “I was out of my mind, Ivy! Here you exist in the world, the most precious, important thing in my life, and I hardly knew you. I thought if we could just wait until we were married and you were here, where no one could take you away from us, we could ease you into the situation. Explain things. Court you without fear of interference. And after you hopefully accepted us, we could tell your brother—be public with my court. Change the landscape around this barbarism and just be as we meant to.”
I cackle, humorless, dry. Such romance, yet so much idiocy. “And what? You thought me so unreasonable that I would work against my own interest—against my own life ? You thought I wouldn’t want to be pampered and loved into old age with my three Fate-blessed alphas? You stole time from us. You didn’t trust me with my own life.”
Sloan attempts to reassure me through our connection, but I don’t want that now. I want to understand why Cillian would make it so that I wouldn’t know Sloan or Oran as I should.
“I was wrong, darling. I know that. And I’m so sorry for lying. But I panicked. I saw what happened to my mother, and even the idea that you could—I can’t even speak it. I was wrong.”
He was. He hurt me with his lies. Hurt himself and his packmates. I understand his heart, I truly do, and it breaks for the pain he’s endured. But the fact remains that he thought so little of my capacity to understand that he kept me in the dark.
“I’m angry,” I say, simple but true. “I’m angry for all that’s happened to...to your mother, to all noble omegas. What could happen to me and my sisters, my little brother...But I’m also sad, Cillian. I’m sad you lied. If you had only come to me, you would have learned that this—a pack—is something I’ve always wished for but never thought I could have. Had I known, I would have never let anyone take me from you, from any of you. And we could have gotten married at once.”
“But Ivy, you hadn’t come into your omega senses yet,” he reasons. “It didn’t feel right to tell you when you couldn’t experience scenting us for yourself.’”
I’m so confused. So torn and uncertain where to place all this madness. I turn to Oran. “Why did you agree?”
“Ivy.” He hesitates. “What was I to do? I trust Cillian. I didn’t agree, but I understood him. I watched his mother die—my mother too. I didn’t want the same for you. And if I’m honest, I wasn’t certain you would want me. Scent match or not.”
How can he say that? How could I ever look at him—the most passionate, handsome, and attentive alpha—and not want him?
Sloan has been decidedly quiet. “And what about you?”
He shrugs, calm as usual. “You know why I agreed. This isn’t new to me. My ma is well and happy with four alphas of her own. I’m here now, tied to you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Fuck. I want to scream, to cry. To hug Cillian and slap his beautiful face.
So much time wasted. So many injustices done. So many lives lost.
Hawthorn can’t have known about this. I refuse to accept he would know and let five of his siblings face horrific lives. The fact that this and not my father’s philandering that made her ill—there’s so much to process.
“I need to think,” I gasp, my heart beating fast, lungs burning.
“I understand,” Cillian says, somber. “But darling, please know that every choice I made—even though it was wrong—I made with you in mind. I only care about your well-being, and I’m prepared to do anything so you don’t have to go through anything like that. If you agree, I’ll tell the court. Have us all bond with you. And change things—whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
I hear him. I understand his intent, but he isn’t the only one with a terrible father whose actions ruined things on the inside. He still lied, and I need time to separate his actions from his intentions and the hurt I’ve endured because of secrets past.
“I want to go to my nest.”
“Do you want me to go with you, petal?” Sloan asks.
“Yes,” I breathe, relieved I don’t have to ask. Except... “No, actually. I’m sorry. I want to... I need to speak with Oran.”
Sloan smiles, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it gently.
Cillian deflates, nearly falling onto the floor. If he’s relieved to have gotten the weight off his chest or saddened that I can’t give him assurances at the moment, I don’t know. I just know what my heart wants, and that’s to spend time out with my alpha who looks as though I’ve given him a gift, who’s quiet and eager to be near me. He didn’t ask for this. He simply followed orders, and while I wish he wouldn’t have, I can’t be angry with him over this. Just like I can’t be angry at Sloan.
“You want me in your nest, love?” Oran asks, wide-eyed with wonder.
I nod, clutching the handkerchief he made like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
“Please, alpha.”
He smiles, rising at once and reaching out a hand. I let go of Sloan and stand to join Oran.
“Thank you for finally telling me,” I say, looking at Cillian and his tear-filled eyes. “I know that must have been very difficult to recount, and I’m so angry on your behalf. But I need time, Cillian. I need to process all this information and try to find a way to forgive you.”
Cillian stands, but stays where he is, every inch the gentleman as an omega leaves the room. “I’ll wait forever, Ivy. I just want your heart.”
My heart clenches at that. I know he’s sincere. I know it to be true, and I think I can get there, just not yet.
I give him one last look, then smile softly at Sloan, before turning to Oran.
“Can we go please?”
He squeezes my hand, his palm warm and reassuring. “After you, little mate.”
As I lead my alpha through the secret passageway Sloan showed me, I can’t help but wish I would have asked Cillian to join us.
I’m so on edge with this heat and all their injustice, but I need time with Oran, I need his sweet smoke filling my nose and to feel everything he’s had to keep hidden this last year.
Oran is mine, and knowing he thought I could never want him is one injustice I can fix right now.