29. Elowen #2
"Mrs. Ashford, please…" Victoria starts.
Margaret continues as if she hasn't spoken. "Three alphas?" She looks at me, then the others. "That's highly irregular. The Ashford name requires—"
"The Ashford name is mine to do with as I choose." Calder's voice stays level but there's steel underneath. "And I choose them."
Robert leans forward slightly. "Son, we're not trying to control you. We just want you to think carefully about this. Multi-alpha packs are... complicated. Statistically—"
"Statistically," Julian interrupts smoothly, "multi-alpha packs show higher stability rates when formed through mutual choice rather than traditional hierarchy. The research is quite clear on consent-based pack dynamics."
Robert blinks. Margaret looks like she's tasted something sour.
"And who exactly are you?" Margaret asks, tone implying she already knows the answer won't impress her.
"Julian Cross. Research focus on pack dynamics and consent theory." He meets her gaze steadily. "Statistically speaking, attempting to force an unwanted match typically results in pack fracture within five years."
The reference to pack fracture makes Calder tense beside me. I squeeze his hand.
Margaret's attention finally lands fully on me. I feel the weight of her assessment, my simple clothes, my lack of jewelry except for Grandmother's ring, my complete absence of the polish Victoria radiates.
"And you are the omega in this... arrangement."
"My name is Elowen." I keep my voice steady. "Not 'the omega’. And this isn't an arrangement. We chose each other."
"Rowan, you said?" Margaret's tone suggests she's trying to place me in whatever social hierarchy she maintains. "Is that a local family?"
Translation: Are you somebody?
"My grandmother runs a herbal medicine practice. The Rowan line has been working with medicinal plants for generations."
"How... quaint." The word could mean charming. It doesn't. "Calder comes from a family with significant holdings. Real estate, investments, legacy. I'm sure you understand why we have certain expectations for his future."
I understand perfectly. I'm not wealthy enough, not polished enough, not Maidenhill Academy enough.
"I understand you want what's best for your son," I say carefully. "We do too."
"Do you?" Margaret looks at me, really looks, and I see what she's thinking. Gold digger. Social climber. Wrong class, wrong training, wrong everything.
Calder's hand tightens on mine. "Mother, stop."
"I'm simply being realistic, darling. Victoria is prepared for this kind of match. Surely you can see the difference—"
"The difference," Calder says quietly, dangerously, "is that Victoria is someone you chose. Elowen is someone I chose."
Victoria makes a small sound. When I look at her, she's staring at her folded hands with an expression that might be pain or relief or both.
Margaret opens her mouth, closes it, tries again. "Calder, you're our only son. Your future—"
"Is mine." He stands, pulling me up with him. "I'm sorry you traveled all this way for nothing. Victoria deserves better than this. We all do."
"Sit down," Margaret snaps.
"No." Calder looks at his father. "Dad, I respect you. I respect that you want me to be happy. But forcing Victoria into this situation, ambushing me with an arranged match I've already declined… this isn't the way."
Robert studies his son for a long moment. Then he looks at Victoria, who still hasn't lifted her gaze from her hands.
"Mrs. Ashford," Victoria says, voice barely above a whisper. "May I speak with Calder? Alone?"
Everyone goes still.
Margaret's eyes narrow. "I don't think—"
"Please." Victoria finally looks up, and there's something desperate in her expression. "It won’t take long."
Robert puts a hand on his wife's arm. "Let them talk, Margaret."
Margaret looks like she wants to argue. But years of social training win, she can't make a scene on a college campus, can't be seen as unreasonable.
"Five minutes," she says tightly.
Calder nods to me and walks with Victoria toward a nearby oak tree. Far enough for privacy, close enough to stay visible.
I watch them go, stomach tight with something I refuse to name as jealousy. She's beautiful and polished and exactly what his mother wants. And I'm...
"Hey." Tyler's voice is quiet. "You okay?"
I nod and look at Margaret Ashford, at the way she's watching her son with Victoria like she's mentally planning their wedding.
"I will be."
Under the oak tree, Victoria and Calder stand facing each other. She's talking, hands twisting together. He's listening, occasionally shaking his head or responding. At one point he puts a hand on her shoulder, a brotherly gesture, and she looks up at him with something like gratitude.
Margaret watches them with barely concealed hope.
I watch and try not to feel like I'm losing something I barely got to keep.
"She's not the enemy," Julian whispers beside me.
"I know."
"She looks as trapped as you'd feel in her position."
"I know that too."
Tyler leans closer. "You're pack. She's not. That's what matters."
Across the way, Victoria nods at something Calder says. They start walking back.
Margaret straightens, smoothing her suit, arranging her face into anticipatory victory.
But when they reach us, Victoria doesn't sit down. She stands very straight, hands still twisted together, and looks at Margaret with an expression that might be terror or determination or both.
"Mrs. Ashford," Victoria says, voice shaking slightly. "I need to say something."
"Of course, dear. I—" Margaret starts.
"Please let me finish." Victoria takes a breath.
"I've been trained at Maidenhill to be grateful for arrangements like this.
To say yes and smile and be appropriate.
My parents told me a match with the Ashford family would be an honor.
And it would be. Calder is kind and successful and any omega would be fortunate to…
" She stops, swallows hard. "But I can't marry someone who is in love with someone else. "
Margaret's face goes very still. "Victoria—"
"He looks at Elowen the way I want someone to look at me someday. Like she's his whole world. Like he chose her and would choose her again every single day."
Her voice gains strength as she speaks.
"Maidenhill taught me to be perfect. To manage a household and host events and support my alpha's career.
But they never asked what I wanted. What I dreamed about.
" She looks at her folded hands. "I used to read romance novels at night and imagine someone choosing me.
Not my family name or my Maidenhill training. Me."
She meets Margaret's eyes directly for the first time.
"I deserve that. So does Calder. So does she." Victoria looks at me. "I'm sorry. I should have spoken up sooner. I just... I didn't know I could."
The silence stretches.
Then Robert Ashford does something unexpected. He smiles. "The girl has a point, Margaret."
Margaret’s expression crumples. "But we arranged—"
"An arrangement that sounded suitable on paper." Robert shakes his head. "When did we become the people who force unwanted matches?"
Something passes between them, old pain, old memory perhaps.
Victoria steps forward, voice gentle. "I'm grateful you thought of me, Mrs. Ashford. Truly. But please let Calder make his own choice. Let me make mine."
She glances at her phone, and something shifts in her expression, a small, private smile.
"Perhaps we should get back," she says. Calder raises an eyebrow. Victoria's cheeks flush pink. "Thank you," she says to him. "For being honest. I hope I can be as brave."Then she looks at me. Really looks, without envy or judgment. "Take care of him. He's a good person."
"I intend to," I manage. "We all will."
Victoria nods once, then turns to Margaret. "I'd like to go now, if that's alright. I have studying to catch up on."
It's a polite lie. Margaret knows it. But what can she say? "Of course, dear." Margaret's voice sounds hollow. "Robert, would you...?"
"I'll call the car," Robert says.
Victoria walks away with her phone already out, typing rapidly. The small smile returns to her face as she reads a response.
Someone at Maidenhill, I wonder?
Margaret watches her go, then looks at Calder like he's a stranger.
"I don't understand," she says, and for the first time she sounds genuinely lost. "We gave you everything. The best education, the best connections, every opportunity—"
"You gave me a lot," Calder agrees. "But you can't give me this. I have to choose it myself."
"And you choose..." Margaret looks at me, at Tyler, at Julian. "This."
"Them." Calder's voice is firm. "I choose them. Every day. I'll keep choosing them."
Margaret's phone buzzes. She looks at it, then at us.
"Your uncle wants to meet for coffee," she says to Calder. "He says there's a situation that needs addressing. I assume you told him about this... development."
"I texted him when you arrived," Calder admits. "I thought we might need backup."
"Backup." Margaret laughs, but it sounds broken. "Against your own parents."
"Margaret—" Robert starts.
"No, he's right." She looks at Calder, really looks. "When did you stop trusting us?"
"When you stopped asking what I wanted and started telling me what I needed."
Margaret flinches.
"Let's go see Marcus," Robert says, offering his hand to his wife.
Margaret nods slowly. She looks at me one more time, assessment turning to something that might be resignation.
"Rowan, you said? The tea shop family?"
"Herbal medicine," I correct her.
"Hmm."
They walk back to the parking lot. Calder watches them go, shoulders tight with tension. The moment they're out of sight, he exhales shakily. "That was..."
"Terrifying?" Tyler supplies.
"Awkward?" Julian adds.
"Necessary," I finish.
Calder pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my hair. "I'm sorry. I should have told you about my family. About Victoria. About all of it."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because it doesn't matter here. At Elderwood, I'm just... me. Not the Ashford heir. Not old money. Just Calder." He pulls back to look at me. "With you, I'm just Calder."
"You're not just anything," I murmur. "But I understand."
Tyler's phone buzzes. He glances at it and winces. "Your Uncle Marcus wants us at the café in twenty minutes. Says he's doing damage control."
"Of course he does." Calder runs a hand through his hair. "Ready for round two?"
I look at Tyler, then at the phone. "You have his number?"
"Calder introduced us a few weeks ago," Tyler explains. "Just casual, getting-to-know-the-pack kind of thing."
"We've texted here and there since," Julian adds. "He checks in sometimes."
I turn to Calder. "You introduced them to your uncle?"
"Of course I did." He says it like it's obvious. "Marcus is the only family member I actually trust."
Calder's expression softens immediately. He cups my cheek with devastating gentleness.
"I'm not keeping secrets from you, princess," he murmurs. "I was protecting you. I needed to know Marcus would be an ally before I brought you into it. Before my family could hurt you." His thumb brushes my cheekbone. "Everything I do is about keeping you safe.
"Okay," I whisper. "Let's not keep him waiting."
Calder kisses my forehead. "He’ll lecture us about family politics."
"Can't wait," Tyler deadpans.
Julian straightens his shirt. "We demonstrated stability under pressure. Now we prove sustainability over coffee."
"You make pack formation sound like a business presentation," Tyler says.
"To some people, it is." Julian looks toward where the Ashfords disappeared. "We're going to have to prove ourselves. Repeatedly. Are we prepared for that?"
I think of Margaret's pearls and Victoria's Maidenhill training and the vast gulf between my grandmother's cottage and what I imagine of the Ashford family mansion.
"No," I admit. "But we're doing it anyway."
Calder's hand finds mine. "Together."
"Always together," Tyler agrees.
Julian nods once, decisive. "Then let's go meet Marcus."
We gather our books and head toward town. Behind us, students whisper and stare. The story of Calder Ashford's mother bringing his arranged match to campus, only to watch her walk away, will be legend by nightfall.
I should feel victorious.
Instead I feel exhausted.
And a little afraid of what comes next.