Chapter 3 #2
“Whatever for?” She runs a hand down the cover of the book in her hand. “This is your home. I am simply another guest.”
“I guess you’re technically right.” My mouth goes dry. “But you’re the most celebrated guest here. That counts for something.”
She sighs softly. “It isn’t the gift you may think it is.”
My gaze drops to the book in her hand and I pause, tongue tying in the middle of figuring out what to say. It’s an anatomy textbook, specifically on the brain and its neurology.
“Oh, I know what you mean. Always expected to act a certain way. To be strong, have solutions, make things happen for everyone else when all you really want to do is find something that’s…yours.”
Sophine stares at me for a long moment, taking in my words, and I wonder if maybe I’ve said too much. But when she walks over to one of the armchairs, she waves me to a neighboring seat.
“A sly and wise observation. Marigold? Am I right?”
She knows my name. She has to, with our families tied together in more than one way, so I don’t understand why she pretends she doesn’t.
Maybe it’s politeness. I nod anyway. “The third Gardener daughter. The pretty face with the empty head. That’s me.”
The moment the words leave my mouth I regret them. Especially when I see the hard expression on Sophine’s face.
“Whose words are those?” she asks. “Certainly not yours.”
“No, not mine.” I scramble to paint over the picture I’ve presented her. “But I have ears. I hear the whispers. And the Queen Bee—”
She scoffs. “Don’t listen to anything that belligerent pest says. She’s going to regret her lies soon enough.”
“Do you know who it is?” I ask.
“I have my suspicions. My own methods and traps laid out. Her identity will be revealed and she will pay. I can promise you that.” The Monarch’s gray-blue eyes flash. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious. That’s all.”
She leans back into her chair and crosses one slender leg over the other. Sophine’s gaze drifts to the book in her hand again, then back to me.
I nod toward it before I can overthink it. “Are you interested in the subject of anatomy?”
Her fingers skim over the embossed title before she speaks again. “Lately, yes, I have been. Your sister has been…a new voice on the Council. Iris Gardener. A loud, persistent voice. But she’s good at keeping me on my toes and curious about things.”
“My sister?”
“Yes.” A faint shift in Sophine’s expression. Admiration, maybe? It’s hard to tell. “She’s…difficult. Rough around the edges. But I like her. She reminds me a little of my sister. Of…”
Penrith.
The air in the space changes with that. It grows heavy with sadness, and I want to say something to ease it, but I’m not sure what.
“We can’t choose our families. Iris can be a lot even for me,” I say carefully. “Pen is here tonight. But I’m sure you already know. She’s been a great help to our family.”
At the mention, Sophine’s expression cools, a door closing politely. “I know,” she says.
The subject doesn’t go any further. Instead, she rises from her chair and places the medical book carefully onto the small table between us.
“You’re honest, Marigold,” she says after a beat. “It’s refreshing. And you’re easy to talk to. Both are good qualities to have.”
I hesitate. “For an Omega?”
“No,” Sophine says simply. “For anyone.”
And then she’s gone.
I sit back, heart hammering as I let the calm of the room claim me. That was…an interesting exchange. I don’t know how else to describe it. All I do know is that I’m not ready to join the party fully yet.
And I need to draw.
Luckily, I’ve stashed supplies in every room, hidden in plain sight. So I get up and rummage in one of the shelf drawers until I find an extra stash of pencils and another sketchbook, this one handheld in size.
I prefer chalk pastels to pencils, especially when sketching, but this will do in a pinch. I want to capture what just happened, freeze it in time. I start outlining the Monarch.
Maybe it’s the pencil, or maybe it’s me, but I can’t manage to portray her essence, the elusive thing living inside her that makes her what, who, she is.
Her stance, her stare as she looks at me from over her shoulder is full of secrets, and as much as I try to recapture that brief moment of sadness I saw from her at the mention of Pen, I find it’s too hard to remember. To make her relive it in sketch form.
All I can manage is recreating her strength, her regalness, but the Monarch mask is still firmly in place.
I’m losing my touch.
“There you are, Mari.”
I almost jump out of my skin and the pencil goes flying as I spin to find my brother standing behind me. “Heath! Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Save the drama for Rue, please.” He sits where the Monarch had been only moments ago and leans in. “People have been wondering where you ran off to.”
I close my pencil into my sketchbook. “Oh, sorry. I wanted to get this idea down—”
“The Monarch’s asking a lot of questions about you, to me and mom,” he says with a small smile. “So that’s good.”
“You’ve said good things, I hope?”
He nods. “Yes, actually. I was worried how things might go for you since Iris’s Season went a little off the rails and her…mates—”
“There’s nothing wrong with Killian and Xavier,” I rush to say. “I like them.”
Heath waves that away. “Yeah, yeah, they’re fine. I haven’t had to kill either of them yet, but I meant with them being from the Lower Side.”
“Nobody cares about that.”
“I wish that were true,” he says, and when I remember Lady Highbridge’s reaction to Iris’s mate, I frown. Iris was right; change isn’t happening fast enough. “I think them still being Alphas helped her case.”
“And her being put on Council.”
“Which was some crazy luck,” he replies and rubs his forehead like the memory of last Season gives him a headache.
I want to say luck had nothing to do with it, that it was Iris’s intelligence and quick thinking that gained her the Monarch’s favor, but I don’t.
All of us sisters knew Iris would end up doing something big with her life, in her way. Reeling her in is damn near impossible. Apparently Heath had to learn the hard way.
“Well, I’m excited about the Season,” I say, folding my hands over my unfinished sketch. Bowing my head. “I’m not like Iris. I like being an Omega and I want to find a mate.”
And I do. Someone worthy. Someone good. Someone I can love and who can love me. Be my partner.
“I know.” Heath eases back. “I think your Season might be the fastest yet.”
I chuckle, the sound brittle enough to crack. “No pressure, then.”
“Maybe some.” But his grin blooms to a full smile. It’s genuine and one I haven’t seen from him in a long time. The one that reminds me of Dad. “I have a good feeling about this summer, Mari. Like things might finally start turning in our favor.”
Glancing down at the anatomy book left behind by the Monarch, I let out a breath. “Well…let’s hope you didn’t just jinx it.”