Episode 8 Knight in Shining Armor
I knew going into this, the challenges were rigged. Knew that the production team would want to have the prince as the winner of every game they could manage to skew in his favor.
I didn’t know they would outright lie about the results though.
And yet, that is exactly what they did when Cleo Hartwell stood up on the stage and announced that after penalties were calculated, we lost by three seconds, because Florence touched a rope.
She didn’t. I know she didn’t.
I was watching her too closely. The bend and sway of her body as she navigated that obstacle. She didn’t get anywhere close to a rope. It's more likely one of the other omegas on my team did. I wouldn’t know because I hadn’t been able to look away from the gorgeous honey blond.
It takes a moment for the announcement to sink in. For the cheers to fade. For the crew to start moving again, resetting cameras, corralling omegas, pretending this outcome makes sense.
Florence doesn’t say anything. She just nods, polite and distant, brow wrinkled like she’s thinking back over the rope course and wondering if she did touch a rope without her realizing. She steps back into line without complaint, without protest, letting them guide her away from us.
I flash her a reassuring smile when she glances over her shoulder in our direction, wanting like hell to pull her aside and tell her she’s not mad, that she didn’t touch a rope, but that they just couldn’t let us win, like I’d told her from the beginning.
Not that Forsythe's ego is that fragile, it's just a matter of having him be portrayed as our strongest alpha, our most competent.
“Well,” Courtland says lightly, though there’s tension under it, “that was enlightening.”
Grieves grunts in agreement. Piers lingers near us, close enough to hear but far enough to keep up appearances, his gaze tracking the omegas until they disappear from sight.
We don’t need to say it out loud to know what comes next.
Elimination discussions always come after challenges like this.
Performance. Compatibility. Narrative. Who adds something to the story—and who doesn’t.
If this were the normal Alpha Love Getaway, we’d focus on compatibility.
On whom we like the best. But this is RoyaLove Getaway and we have no control over the eventual outcome.
It's a foregone conclusion, so instead we’ll focus on performance and narrative.
We retreat to the private seating area set aside for us, microphones still clipped but cameras pulled back just enough to pretend this is candid. Forsythe waits until we’re settled before straightening, shoulders squaring in that way he gets when he’s about to be royal instead of just Forsythe.
“All right,” he says. “We need to talk about cuts.”
There it is.
He lists a few names first. Safe ones. Obvious ones. Omegas who didn’t contribute much, who faded into the background, who looked good on camera but didn’t connect. We all nod along. Even Courtland doesn’t argue.
Then Forsythe hesitates.
My spine goes rigid already knowing where he’s going to go with this, and readying to fight.
“There’s also Florence,” he says carefully. “She’s not… seamless in group dynamics.”
“Is that your way of saying she’s bossy?” Court asks with a smirk.
Forsythe ignores him and continues. “And too many of us are drawn to her. She’s a distraction-”
“No,” I say simply. Firmly. Cutting him off before he can say we can’t afford to keep Florence.
Sythe’s brows jump. I’m sure he didn’t expect much of a fight from me on any portion of this.
I’ve already made my stance on the whole charade clear.
There doesn’t seem to be a point to it. We know who will be joining our pack, and not one of us can figure out why the queen wanted to go about it this way.
“We aren’t getting rid of Ren,” I say, just in case he intends to misinterpret my refusal somehow.
“Thay,” he says, running a hand over his beard. “We have to drop someone.”
“Two someones,” I correct. “And she is not going to be one of them.”
Our prime eyes me for a moment. He’s debating whether to argue.
Eventually he gives a quick nod, like he’s come to a decision.
“I think it's best if we cut her now. I would hate for any of us to get attached to her when nothing can come of it. It's kinder for her as well. We don’t want to lead her on, correct? Give her false hope?”
That is an excellent angle for him to approach this from. Protecting her, not us.
“She doesn’t have that,” Piers says from the side of the room, out of view of the cameras.
“What does that mean?” Courtland asks, turning toward Piers and motioning him forward.
Piers takes a few steps forward but doesn't sit with us like he should. “It means production took it upon themselves to inform her that she will not be our future bonded omega seeing as she’s American and we are not.”
I make a disappointed noise. “I suppose that’s why I overheard her asking if she gets paid more the longer she stays.”
It hardly registered back then. I was too entranced the first time seeing her, back on the dock.
But money? Is that why she’s here? Not for love?
Not for us? It's hypocritical of me to be upset about this, I understand that, but it doesn’t stop my stomach from sinking.
I’d thought perhaps she felt the draw to me too.
The zing of energy when I touched her skin.
Court shrugs. “Can you blame her? She’s not like most of the omegas here. She’s middle class at best. Works two jobs. Jobs that she had to take time off from to come here, only to be told she came for nothing. She’s being practical.”
I nod, so does Grieves. Forsythe, though, looks like he’s been gutted. Even though he’s the one who just said we have to get rid of her, apparently the notion that Florence Karlin isn’t here for us isn’t one he cares to consider.
She might have come for us originally though. Happy and full of sunshiny hope that we were her pack, until she was told in no uncertain terms otherwise. Can we fault her for changing her priorities after that? I don’t think we can.
Our prime meets my eyes. “You think she can handle it? Staying until the end or close to it, and then being sent home? You don’t think she’d go to the press or anything about what bastards we were to do that?”
I run a hand over my face, wearily. My eyes sting from wearing contacts for today’s challenge and I wish I could go and swap them for my glasses.
“Thayer?” the prince prompts, drawing a sigh from me.
It’s always image with him. Always. I get it. He was born royal and has had it drilled into his head at a young age that duty and optics are the most important fucking thing in the world. He bends over backwards to protect his family’s name, their legacy. And so we do, too.
Even if some of us have a harder time than others.
“Based on what I saw of her today,” I say slowly, considering my words carefully.
“She isn’t the type to badmouth people just for the sake of it.
She was thoughtful, helpful, took a leadership role during the obstacle course.
She knew the code for the gate at the end, but let Odette enter it and take the credit.
She performed… beautifully.” To say that I was impressed by her is a gross understatement.
Most of the omegas were more interested in rubbing their breasts on my chest, and for a moment, when Ren had asked me to lift her, I thought it was more of the same.
But she’d actually meant it. I think she was more focused on the task than I was, barely noticed the way our bodies pressed together.
Whereas I can still feel the imprint of her soft but strong flesh on my palms.
“But she’s also not the type of person to let things stand if she sees an injustice,” Grieves says. “One of the other omegas gave her a hard time for talking to Piers, ‘the help’. Florence was quick to remind her that even the ‘help’ deserves respect.”
That makes my heart get all warm. What we’ve been describing is exactly the type of person I would want for my mate, if given the choice. We need someone who’ll stand up to us, omega or not, to tell us when we’re being ‘bastards’ as Forsythe suggested she might.
“Beyond that,” Court says. “She’s bound by the same NDA all the omegas signed. And the drama is the goal here. If she leaves here and says we led her on… well, people will eat that shit up. It won’t reflect badly on us. It's part of the show.”
Out of all of us, Courtland is the one the most familiar with Alpha Love Getaway. When the queen told us we would be doing the show, he took it upon himself to watch hours of the show in his studio while he painted.
The rest of us did the bare minimum to prepare.
In my case that involved burying my head in a research project at work, and not coming up for air until I was forced on a plane bound for Liros. Now I wish I’d done a bit more to prepare for this.
They gave us a list of the omegas weeks ago, needing crown approval, and I’d not done more than glance at it.
I wish I’d researched them instead of Greek tragedies that are unchosen, like Cassandra, Polyxena and Iphigenia because then I would have a better idea of what makes Florence Karlin tick.
Of what drives her, besides her obvious need to win.
I can’t even fully understand why she came on this show.
Piers and Court were right, there is a certain amount of reluctance to get close to us, a wariness in her eyes, a hesitation to get too close. Particularly at the start of the game, like she was waiting to see if I would lord my alpha dominance over them, order them through the tasks.
It's half of the reason I didn’t take the lead, even though my alpha wanted me to. He’s just as competitive as Florence is, but neither of us wanted to make her uncomfortable or worse prove her wariness of alphas right.