Episode 26 Off With Her Plans #2
She turns back to the view of the gardens. “Her actions of late are unhinged. I’m seriously concerned about her mental state, and I know she’s making decisions that protect our family name and bloodline and not the country. I’m going to push for her to abdicate.”
I jerk toward her. “You are?”
She nods. “Yes. It’s what's for the best. If she can’t see it, then we’ll force her hand.
I refuse to let this law stand, Sythe. Fucking refuse.
She couched in words like security. Safety.
But this law was an attack on Bree. My omega.
On my pack.” She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “Yours too.”
A slow nod. “It was. And countless other omegas and packs will get caught in the crossfire.”
“But we are going to stop her.” My sister sounds determined. Angry.
“When?” I ask, both dreading and needing the answer.
Lizzie shrugs and turns to me, propping her hip on the banister.
“Soon. As soon as I can manage. I’ve been in chats with Lord Crowhurst and Minister Redgrave.
I’ll need as much support as I can get from the Lords.
But there are still a disturbing number of old men who salivate over the thought of having omegas under their thumb in this way.
It is frustrating beyond belief. Why? You want to be there when I tell her? ”
I shift, suddenly uncomfortable. My shoes are making my feet ache, and my suit is too bloody tight, the collar of my shirt strangling me.
I don’t want to be here anymore. No. I want to be five blocks away in a cozy apartment with my pack.
With my omega. I want to say ‘fuck all this’ and just go to them.
“I do,” I admit eventually. “But more than that I want to make things right with Florence before she abdicates. I don’t want Ren to think the only reason I choose her is because Grams is no longer a threat.
I want her to know that I’m choosing her because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, to us.
That I lo-” I cut off the word. I haven’t said it yet to Florence, I won’t tell me sister before her.
Elizabeth grins at me. “Then you better get to work.”
The first thing I do is seek out my grandmother to bid her farewell.
I don’t want to be here any longer. I want to be with my pack.
She’s in the ballroom, dressed in a gown that looks too young for her advanced age, a crown perched on her head and a crowd of sycophants around her, just as she prefers.
Isadora perks up as I approach, like she thinks I might be there for her, only to deflate when I ignore her, moving instead to my grandmother’s side. I press a kiss to her cheek, while she beams as though she’s proud of me, but I know better. This is all for show.
“I’m off,” I tell her. That pride she’d been projecting falls, a flicker of her true feelings coming through before she smooths it away.
“So soon?”
I give her my polite smile, the one she’s hammered into me from a young age. “Indeed. My pack is waiting for me, as is my omega.”
The crowd around us titters at that, at my casual mention of Florence. The queen’s expression turns icy. Isadora pushes to my side, latching onto my arm before I can stop her. “Oh, I’m right here, my love,” she purrs, but there’s an edge of desperation in her tone.
I shake her off, forcibly, and step away from her. “The correct form of address is Your Highness,” I tell her. “I’m sure you remember.”
Heart thundering, I turn to my grandmother and dip into a bow. “Have a pleasant evening, Your Majesty.”
“Forsythe,” She calls out after me, stalling my steps. “A word, if you please.”
This is not a request, it’s an order. One I’m inclined to ignore, but I’ve also already angered her enough for the day, so I turn back with a solicitous smile on my face and bob my head. “Of course, grandmother.” I drop her title on purpose.
Her lips tighten before she turns and leads me out of the room, her back ramrod straight, her gait slightly off kilter.
As soon as we’re alone, tucked into a quiet room just off the ballroom, she spins toward me, face a mask of disdain and anger. “What, precisely, do you think you are doing, my boy? Claiming that girl as your omega.”
“That girl’s name is Florence. And I am only speaking the truth. Finally. She is my omega, my pack’s omega. My scent match, grandmother. Surely you can understand what that means.”
Her eyes, so like my own, narrow into a glare. “We agreed you would not pursue things with that chit.”
I’m not sure where she thinks we agreed on anything. It was more that she threatened the safety of my omega and I bowed to her wishes out of fear. But no more.
Grieves is right, we can protect her from anything that the queen throws our way. The more transparent we are, the more honest about our situation, the less power my grandmother has. That will be my goal, to leech as much of her power from this situation as I can.
“Things have changed,” I say, honestly. “I should have done this ages ago if I’m honest. Back on that bloody television show, I should have just ignored you and picked her.”
“Isadora is the correct choice,” she insists, thumping her cane on the ground to punctuate her point.
“No, she’s not. Not for me, and not for my pack.” When she just glares at me I try a different tact, softening my voice. “Surely you can see how it would look to the world if we didn’t choose our fated mate?”
“That information should have never come out. Stupid girl. She should have known better.”
“Yes,” I say drily. “She should have known better than to contract a rare disorder due to our actions. She is sick because of me. Because of us.”
The queen gives a sharp shake of her head.
“Why she became ill is none of our concern, beyond that she is clearly weak and would make for a poor mate for a prince.” My lip curls back in a snarl at her words, my alpha displeased at hearing his mate described as weak.
Florence isn’t weak. She’s the strongest person I know.
“You will not choose her, Forsythe. She will not strengthen the throne, our family. You understand that, don't you?”
There’s a long pause, during which I come to terms with what will happen next, the disappointment I’m barreling toward.
“She’s our scent match. Our fated mate, the other half of my soul, my whole heart and you’re still asking us—asking me—to give her up?”
My grandmother gives me an unwavering look. “You have a duty to your family, Forsythe. To your crown. I expect you to do it. No matter the cost.”
“You knew, didn’t you?” I ask, stumbling back a step and staring with dawning horror at my grandmother. “You knew who she was to us, and you still demanded we send her home.”
If she didn’t deem it undignified, I’m certain my grandmother would have shrugged just now. “Why else would I demand you do it before the scenting ceremony? I knew if you caught a whiff of that trumped up little tart you’d forget your duty to me, to the country and throw it all away on her.”
Throw what away? I wonder. Fated mates are revered in our world.
In every world. In every country. They’re seen as a blessing.
Something to be cherished. No one would have faulted me for choosing Florence once I realized.
The country likely would have seen it as a sign that the Ashbournes are blessed.
But that didn’t fit in with what she wanted, what she needed. Her vision for the country. For her family.
I shake my head at her, disappointment thick in my blood.
This is my grandmother. A woman who is supposed to love me, support me, want the best for me, and she can’t find it in her heart to do any of that. She only wants to shape me into something that can be of service to her, a tool for her to use.
No more.
Never again.
My back straightens and I smooth out my jacket more from habit than a need to be tidy. “Florence is my mate. She will be my omega. As of this moment, my betrothal to Isadora is null and void. I will not bond her. I will not marry her. I will not bend to you.”
“Forsythe,” my grandmother bites out. “You will regret making such a rash decision. A girl such as her will not be able to understand the needs of the crown, of the country. She will only hinder our progress.”
“Progress?” I bark out a laugh. “What progress would that be? The progress of the law you just forced through, using the spectacle of a reality dating show for cover? The law that takes us back fifty years or more? That’s the progress Florence would hinder?
” The smile I give her is sharp and like no smile I’ve ever given to my grandmother before.
“Well, then, I say bring on the hindrance. Maybe my omega can help us get back to the time when omegas were seen as people and not as commodities to be monitored.”
I don’t wait for a response. I have no need for one. Instead I turn, heading for the door that leads to the hallway rather than the ballroom, eager to get away, to get back to my pack, my omega.
“You’re going to regret this,” she grinds out after me.
“Maybe,” I say with my hand on the doorknob. “But I doubt it.”
I slip into the hall at a brisk pace, my feet all but flying over the plush carpeting. As I emerge from the palace, I marvel at the weight that has dropped from my shoulders. As I climb into my waiting car, I feel as though I’m floating, lighter than air.
I hadn’t realized how heavily I felt my grandmother’s expectations, her needs, her wants.
But now, as I make my way back to my omega, I see it. The way I was tied down, by them, by her.
But now I’m finally free.