Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
Violet
T wo days later, I open the door and greet Iris’s best friend. A Beta, who hasn’t come into her scent yet. “Come on in.”
“Hey, Vi.” Quinn Hyde hooks a flyaway strand of red hair behind an ear. “Did you survive the picnic?”
“You left early?”
“You stayed?” she asks as I usher her in.
I put on a bouncy smile. “Of course, to the very end. Mom left early with a migraine.”
“Oh, man, I’d have been out of there as soon as she was.” Quinn hugs me. “The picnic’s nothing more than a gawk fest of who the chosen girls might be, who’s making their debut into the Season. And gossip.”
“And courtesy of Iris,” I say, “and her little accident with the drink and Alicia’s dress, they all got something to gossip about. Mom was worried, but I showed her the Queen Bee Stitch and other Stitchers’ comments. Everyone was nice, and as Rue said, we weren’t singled out by the ‘QB’ as monsters, so…”
“It’ll blow over,” Quinn says.
“I hope you’re right. Anyway, I think the Season is going to be a lovely one,” I say, doing my best to mask my fears.
“Violet Gardener, I never took you for a traditionalist.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a good match, Quinn. And I’m happy for my first Season.” The lie burns on my tongue.
“And last.”
“I hope so. I’ll get Iris.” I’m about to show her into the living room when Rue darts past.
“Iris! Your other half is here!” She grins at Quinn, eyes going to her hair, something she covets. “Why won’t my hair turn red? I’d dye it but Mom might keel over.”
“Yeah? Well, I think my mom wants to keel over every time she sees my hair. It draws eyes to me naturally…and not in a good way, according to her.” Quinn rolls her eyes. “But there’s no way I could ever be a Luxe, so I don’t know why it matters.”
“You might one day,” Rue says, sliding back so she can curl a strand of Quinn’s hair around her finger.
“We Hyde girls are Betas.” She looks at me and gives an impish grin. “Much to Mom’s Omega heart’s dismay.”
“You’ll still have a Season.” They’re so rich, Quinn will be one of the few Betas with their own version of it. Not as much of a fuss the way Alphas’ and Omegas’ Seasons are, but still as nerve-wracking .
“Next year, Vi. Gotta be at least twenty-one.”
I curse my ancient age mournfully. “I know.”
“Mom said Sophine is eyeing a few ladies for the Luxe Omega this year,” Quinn says, “including the newcomer, Alicia Dell.”
“Love your boots, Quinn.” Rue’s been quiet for about half a minute. Far too long for her. “Did you see the Queen Bee’s latest? What was your take? Did you like what the Bee said?”
“Nah, I don’t read that nonsense. And I was barely there.”
“Like Iris.” Rue sighs. “I bet the Bee’s sooo sophisticated.”
Mari walks in, her bouncy bob and soft smile as welcoming as ever. “Hey, Quinn. Iris is getting ready. Dahlia’s about to practice. She’ll be playing at some of the events this year. Want to come hear?”
“I’ll get some tea and cake. Or coffee. Or…or…soda! And cake.” And with that Rue takes off toward the kitchen.
I truly envy pretty Quinn. She’ll have to pick a mate eventually, being a rich Beta, but no Beta is ever made to stand in the spotlight and be fussed over, no matter how rich or well-bred. That’s reserved for Omegas. Like me.
Then again, I won’t be the Monarch’s chosen one. When she finds an Omega she deems worthy, she picks her star.
The thought makes me want to puke.
Marigold tucks Quinn’s hand in her arm. “Mom’s pretending to tend to the front garden so she can catch the mailman. She’s waiting for the first invitations. And Iris? Wardrobe drama. I mean, she mostly wears black, so how much drama can she find?”
With Quinn whisked off and Dahlia playing the piano, I have no option but to follow them into the living room.
My brother’s there, reading on his tablet. It’ll be the newspaper. That’s what he does now around this time. Like our father, except Dad always had the real thing.
He’s pacing and then stops as he sees us. His dark gaze zeroes in on Quinn. “Why is the orange stray here?”
The corner of his mouth actually twitches.
“To claw up your favorite seat, Heather ,” Quinn says.
His eyes narrow at the nickname she’s given him since first befriending Iris years ago. The one he hates and she won’t let up on . “All I hear is mewling.”
“All I hear is?—”
“Girls! Heath!” The front door slams, and Mom comes hurrying in, cutting off the well-worn sniping of old friends. She’s waving a thick cream-colored envelope so fragrant I can smell it from across the room.
It’s a sweet smell. It makes me nauseated.
“From the Monarch herself!” she shrieks.
“O.M.G., Mom!” Rue rushes in holding a box of crackers and waves her phone. “Save a tree, you ancient people, use Stitch or even email.”
“Hush, Rue.” Mom’s eyes scan the page. “It’s the list of Omegas the Monarch is considering as her Luxe.”
“Oh, God,” Iris says, stomping in. “Not this nonsense again.”
Dahlia hits a few dramatic notes on the piano.
Mom is not daunted. “To pick her Luxe, someone that will make all the eligible Alphas vie for her, Sophine is requesting presentations from all the Omegas on this list.”
Iris grunts. “It’s just a list of this year’s cattle to line up and bid on for the slaughter.”
I let out a nervous laugh, and Heath straightens sternly but I don’t miss his eye roll.
My mother suddenly starts almost hyperventilating and flapping her hands in excitement. “Violet! Oh, Violet! Your name is on here! Sophine wants a special presentation from you!”
Every eye in the room swings toward me, and I freeze on the spot. Blood rushes in my ears.
Me…? No… There’s no way. Me?
No. No. No.
“Oh shit…” Iris breathes.
“Wait, Violet?” Rue’s jumping up and down and clapping her hands. “Our sister! A Luxe!”
“She’s not a Luxe yet, Rue. Shut it,” Iris snaps, but their voices are starting to fade into the distance, muffled by my own raging pulse.
Mom is all fluttery. “Do you know what this means?”
“I-I—” I can’t even form words. My tongue is stuck on the roof of my mouth.
Mom grabs my hand and grips it tightly. “It means we have to go shopping!”
Mom pictured grand, deep-violet satin to go with the amethyst family tiara, one from my grandmother’s collection, where the majority of the Gardener properties and riches came from.
But the dress and tiara aren’t me. I can’t pull off high fashion, so while I don’t want to bring shame to my family, I also don’t want to wear something so out of my league.
We settled on a lovely pale-lavender dress in silk, simple and more me , and with it, pretty amethyst-studded hair combs.
Hopefully it’s enough to make me stand out to the Monarch. At least that’s Mom’s prayer. I’m hoping it makes me forgettable enough.
Getting a good mate is one thing; being deemed this year’s Luxe is another. And that’s not the kind of pressure I think I can handle right now.
The world spins, and my skin’s about a thousand degrees hot and hypersensitive. The smooth silk is like rough sandpaper on my skin.
The room is very grand, with paintings on all the walls, and a few sculptures on pedestals, including a Degas ballerina. I focus on that beautiful sculpture, studying the little girl in a frozen pose, and it centers me. At least enough so that I can function.
I’m meeting the Councilwoman Sophine Adams, the highest Alpha in our society. Monarch, as she likes to be called.
She’s standing on a raised section of the vast room, where a dapper male Omega stands in powder-blue velvet to her right, near a rich red high-backed armchair with golden legs. There’s a delicate marble coffee table near her, and on my side of the sitting area is a smaller pale-rose seat, like a rounded pouf ottoman, with no back.
In my head, I can hear Rue saying whoa .
All the other Omegas who’d been on the Monarch’s list already came and went. I am the last in the line. Some were in here for half an hour, others over an hour. The shortest time was twenty-three minutes. I timed it.
It’s only been three minutes since I walked in, and it already feels like an eternity.
Somehow, I stop myself from clenching my hands nervously.
“You should look at me, since we’ll be talking,” the Monarch says.
Her voice is like thick smoke, and I look up. I’m covered in blocker, which blocks my scent. Not the Councilwoman, though. She smells like rich linen and sunlight. Effortlessly cool, effortlessly luxe.
It makes sense. I didn’t really get the word Luxe before, apart from being Sophine’s catchword for the Season. But now I do. “Something you’re born with.”
A single penciled brow rises. “What was that?”
Startled to realize I had spoken aloud, I lift my gaze to her again. She’s heart-stoppingly gorgeous. Timeless beauty.
“I…I’m sorry, Monarch.” I do a small curtsy, and the male Omega snickers, only to stop when she cuts him one brief glance. “I’m Vi?—”
“I know who you are.” She sits. Her long frame is in a cream-colored suit, like she’s off to set order to the world. But her dark-blue eyes are on me, intensely intelligent, intensely interested. “What did you say?”
“Something you’re born with. Luxe, I mean. I get it now. I just…I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.”
Her eyes narrow, and I know I’ve screwed up. I made her sound vain, simpering, and I want the floor to eat me or the ceiling to fall.
“Do you think you’re that?” she asks, head tilting.
I gasp. “No, Monarch, not at all.”
“Sit. Tell me about you.”
“You’re more interesting.”
“I’m not here to be flattered.”
Misery rocks me. “I’m not attempting to flatter.” That’s worse. “I just…I’m not interesting. In a house full of five Omega sisters, it’s not easy to stand out.” Out of desperation I lock onto the ballerina sculpture again. And I make myself breathe slowly because I refuse to have a panic attack here. Minutes, hours, seconds pass, and finally I say, “Is that an Edgar Degas?—”
“What about movies?”
I blink at the sudden change in subject matter, but I answer her. “They’re all right. I don’t go much. I’ve always been the one at home helping our mother with my family… Should I go now?”
“Sit.”
This time, I do.
Sophine looks me over. Slowly. Decisively. “So you’re not into entertainment? Celebrities? Gossip?”
“Not really.”
She nods at her Omega. “Frederick, pour her an iced tea. Bring my drink and then go. ”
Sophine doesn’t do anything until the drinks are served and the door shuts.
When we’re alone again, her attention snaps back to me. “Why do you want me to choose you?”
“I don’t,” I say frankly. “Being seen by you is enough.”
Now she looks at me like I’m something rare. “Don’t you want to shine?”
“There are other girls, talented, nice, who would love being labeled Luxe.”
“But not you?”
I breathe out. “I don’t need that. I’m fine with this year just being my debut, and if I catch a good Alpha’s eye…”
“You don’t want to impress me?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not impressive in that way. My only wish is to find a mate who makes me happy, and who will also be the best for my family. They mean the world to me. Then when—well, if— someone chooses me, we’ll make a family of our own.”
“Children?”
I can’t help but smile. “Lots.” Then I bite my lip. I didn’t mean to say that, but it is true. As the oldest daughter, I’ve spent most of my time caring for my younger sisters. Sort of like a second mother to them. It’s what I’m used to, what I’m good at, what I want for my future.
“So here you are, Violet, a normal girl, pretty but normal, and in your own words boring and not seeking favor or the limelight, simply the right match?”
I didn’t say boring, but I won’t correct her. And I can’t think of what to say, so I nod.
“And do you know who the Queen Bee might be?”
“Er… My sister thought it could be you, but I can see it’s not. I don’t go on Stitch.”
As soon as I say that, I know I’ve blown it. She frowns, deep lines crossing her forehead, as if she’s disappointed in me or I’ve wasted her time. Most likely both.
The rest of the interview happens in a haze, and before I know it, I’m shooed out of the grand room to meet Mom, who is waiting just outside the doors.
She looks at me, puzzled. “You weren’t in there for very long.”
I know. I must’ve hit the record for shortest interview compared to all of the others.
“Can we go, Mom? Now? Please?”
We leave, and as we drive home to the townhouse, I’m already thinking of ways to make Mom feel better about my screw-up with the Monarch. Her silence during the entire ride tells me of her disappointment, too, and upsetting her is the one thing I’d rather die than do.
I messed up. Big time.
Mom wanted me to be the Luxe apparently more than I thought. Even if that’s not what I want, I should have tried harder for her. I should have?—
It doesn’t matter. Now, I need to switch my focus to finding a mate, one she approves of who can lift the family up and set the tone for my sisters and their Seasons.
It’s all up to me.
So I really can’t mess this up too.