6. Ivy
A week spent on the open sea was not so brutal as two whole days cooped up in this room without getting to see my intended’s handsome face.
Well, that’s not entirely true, as I saw Prince Ciaran and Prince Callan when they welcomed my siblings and me upon our arrival. Though they all share the same face, the effect is not the same.
Though they’re triplets, I would be able to tell Cillian apart from the others, even in the dark. It’s the way he carries himself and the aura he naturally exudes that makes my knees weak. His presence is captivating to say the least, and I find myself drawn to him time and time again.
Even when he did his best to ignore me last year, I wanted nothing more than his rapt attention. My wish, it seems, was granted when he caught me snooping around in his study. Since then, my intended has been happy to divulge precisely how much of his notice I hold through his weekly letters.
Though his correspondence hasn’t been what I would consider long-winded, his wit and thoughtfulness have been evident with each stroke of his quill. With each new letter, I have gathered bits and pieces about who Cillian is and what he holds dear. I learned he loves taking his horse, Taranis, out to ride as much as he’s able. That the fresh air in his lungs and the wind at his back bring him joy. He has confided in me that, as the oldest, he feels responsible for both Ciaran and Callan and worries over each of them daily.
Most interestingly, I have learned of his growing affections for me. He has yet to send a single letter where he doesn’t compliment me in some regard. More recently, he’s taken to being rather brazen, telling me in great detail how beautiful he finds me and how he can’t wait to kiss me once more.
Those particular parts of his correspondence, though inappropriate for an unwed omega to receive, never cease to make me flush. They conjure illicit thoughts of the last time our lips met and the circumstances we found ourselves in.
The memory of that night is something I tend to revisit when I’m alone in my bedchambers. All we did—all we would have done were we not interrupted—proves I’m not the proper omega princess Cillian likely expects.
Even now, when I have all I could ever want with my betrothed doting on me from afar, he is not the only alpha on my mind. Just the same as that night, Lord Oran Rafferty is a presence I don’t want to shake. His touch is a phantom caress haunting me still. I burn as brightly for him today as I did then.
Maybe I’m greedy for wanting more than I’ve been given. How many omegas across the western kingdoms would be rapturous to have an alpha like King Cillian at their side? Too many to count, that’s for certain.
But even as a young girl, I used to sneak around the palace so I could hear the omegas on staff gossip and swap stories about their alphas.
I have dreamt of having a pack of my own ever since.
Were I neither a princess nor an omega of noble birth, I would know the thrill of being courted by multiple alphas. To be openly sought after, to feel no shame around the attention my nature so desperately yearns for, is a dream I will never be able to realize. Not fully at least.
But for one evening, I felt a whisper of power that came from several men wanting to bring me pleasure in tandem. Being the sole focus of their concentration, with their soft words and hungry touches, was drugging in a way even my dreams could not prepare me for.
I would never admit this secret desire aloud.
Not to anyone. But especially not to Cillian. He wouldn’t truly consider sharing his bride with another—best friend or not. We were all simply caught up in the heat of the moment at such a late hour.
Still, in the secrecy of my private fantasies, I imagine both Cillian and Oran eager for my body once again. Even more shameful, I sometimes envision the imposing alpha who interrupted us as well. Instead of running away when he arrives, I beckon him to join us. In my dreams he enthusiastically ravishes me with the others until I’m utterly satiated.
It’s terrible, I know. He was a stranger—a handsome, hulking stranger who had a curious comfortability with entering Cillian’s study. It was as though he knew he had the right to be alongside us. As if his presence was expected, and mine was the surprise. Oran even assured me I had nothing to fear.
In my heart, I knew the sentiment to be true. But we’d been caught in such a compromising position.
So, regardless of the torrid night we shared, and no matter how often I reminisce on it, I’m well aware it can never happen again. It will remain my deepest held and most treasured secret. That’s all it can ever be.
What I can look forward to without shame, however, is the prospect of sharing a bed with my soon-to-be husband. The way he kissed me, handled my body, and spoke sinful words into my ear has me eager to see what else he is capable of once we have the privacy we so clearly desire.
“Ivy,” my sister calls from the bed, interrupting my overeager thoughts. “Off to sleep with you. Can’t have you looking like a hag for your precious king tomorrow, can we?”
Typical Rose, never without a jab at the ready. She isn’t one for seafaring and travel—or for alphas either—and has been in rare form since we arrived at Castle Ancaire.
“Your usual charm hasn’t yet returned, sister. Lost at sea, perhaps?” I retort with a grin.
My sister cackles, delighted to have a proper partner to spar with. Our brothers have long since learned better than to go toe to toe with her, and our younger siblings are frankly intimidated. Not me, though.
Rose has been more of a mother to us than our own ever was, but she will always be my best friend first and foremost. I trust her more than anyone else in the world, even if I don’t agree with her views on alphas and marriage.
Her distaste is not unfounded, given what we have experienced.
My parents did not love each other, no matter what lie they told the rest of the world. Much like my union with the king, theirs was arranged for political gain, and my siblings and I saw firsthand how deep their discontent ran. Had my father not been such a flawed, selfish alpha, perhaps their marriage could have turned out differently. But even with his many transgressions, my mother continued to welcome him into her bed.
One would think with eight children to raise and a country to run, a man would be too busy to be a philandering pig behind his bonded’s back. But my father, the former king, did not let the restraints on his time stop him from doing just that.
How could a man who chased beauty so recklessly not appreciate the omega he had in front of him? The mother I remember was young and vibrant. She was widely regarded at court and throughout the western kingdoms for her great beauty, until the illness and my father’s infidelity took their toll on her.
I vowed to never wed a man who would dare treat me with such little consideration. I would sooner run off and live in the woods than go through the same pain he inflicted upon her and, in turn, us all. It was clear to me, even as a child, that my mother’s affection for my siblings and me didn’t run nearly as deep as her resentment. We were a painful reminder that no matter how many healthy children she bore my father, he still would not love her.
For that, she could never forgive us.
Our parents’ failings and untimely deaths didn’t break us, however. Hawthorn, Sage, Aspen, Rose, Lily, Oleander, Daisy, and I formed an unbreakable bond in spite of them. My impending wedding is a bittersweet reminder that while I’m embarking on a new journey, my previous life with my siblings is coming to an end.
They’re all I’ve known by way of companionship, as those in our court seemed more interested in bedding my brothers than genuine friendship. I suppose they hoped to gain access to them by way of me. Foolish, fruitless endeavors which strengthened my resolve not to closely associate with anyone outside of my family.
Rose is similar to me in that regard, except she is also steadfast in her mission to never fall in love. If it were up to her, I suspect the lot of us would be spinster omegas for the whole of our lives.
She continues to confirm said suspicions—having offered to save me from my impending nuptials no less than five times since we arrived in Namara.
While I’m happy to know she will go to any lengths for me, I’m very much looking forward to being Cillian’s wife. I have spent my life preparing to rule beside him as Namara’s queen, and I will bear my title with great pride.
Still, Rose remains skeptical.
“Get in bed, will you?” She beckons again. “If you insist on getting married tomorrow, you’ll need all the rest you can manage.”
“Yes, Mother,” I reply too sweetly, crawling under the covers beside her.
“ Hush .”
Our younger siblings, Lily, Oleander, and Daisy, retired to their chambers hours ago. All the commotion and social interactions have been overwhelming for our reserved Lily to handle. Hawthorn suggested Daisy and Oleander join her when the young men of the Namarian court began falling all over themselves for their amusement. While the twins are not strangers to an alpha’s attention, they are too young and, like the rest of us, promised to others.
“Come here,” Rose coos, opening her arms so I can snuggle closer.
Now that my omega senses have developed, I’m able to perceive her lemon-custard scent, faintly anyway. Like all omegas, it is sweet and pleasant—truly a comfort to experience. It’s no wonder alphas are so eager to be near unmated omegas. I’m told our perfumes are intoxicating for them, even without the full potency only a scent match can experience.
More than that, if the fables are to be believed, fated mates possess a magic unique to those who find each other. It is said they are able to feel the other’s emotions in the bond and communicate through them.
This most precious gift is bestowed upon them when an alpha marks their destined omega with a claiming bite.
While alphas and omegas can bond without a scent match, they can never experience a true unity of souls. I have yet to meet a Fate-blessed pair, but the stories I’ve read of the magic between them is the stuff of dreams.
How wonderful and unlikely a thing it would be to find one’s fated counterpart in this life—to have the capacity for such closeness and transparency through the mating bond.
What I wouldn’t give to be Cillian’s destined omega, though I already know it’s impossible. The prince is two years older than I am—his alpha senses having developed on his twenty-first birthday. Were we a scent match, he would have known from the moment we met last spring.
While disappointing, plenty of mated pairs find happiness without it. Based on our letters and the brief, physical intimacy we shared, I would say we’re off to a solid start. Where passion and desire live, so does the potential for love to blossom. I wouldn’t dare press my luck in wishing for anything beyond.
“Are you sure about this, Ivy?” Rose questions as she strokes my hair. “What if he is an awful, lying cretin like Father—or Blair ?”
I roll my eyes, not keen on entertaining Rose’s ravings about her betrothed again. Apparently he has done some unspeakable thing. My sister refuses to elaborate, other than to say he is a liar and a menace.
While I don't want to imply she isn’t to be believed, Rose is quick to judge and harsh in the sentences she doles out to those she deems unworthy. Her temperament makes for an excellent ally to those whom she bestows the privilege of her high regard. Though that list is very short, to be sure.
I think I may be one of the few people in this world who has seen Rose for who she truly is: fierce in her love and convictions, but with a tender heart she hides behind a wall of sarcasm and vitriol.
“Rosie, this marriage is an inevitability—as is yours. Why shouldn’t I hope to find happiness within it?”
My sister offers me a placating look of sheer pity, and I hate her sincere belief in what she says next. “Happiness is an illusion, Ivy. It never lasts.”
“Poetry! A moving sentiment before I’m to be married,” I crow in an attempt to bring some levity to the conversation. “Thank you, dear bard. Please tell me another love story, if you would be so kind.”
“Point taken.” Rose chuckles. “My delusional, romantic sister doesn’t wish to hear any more truths tonight.”
Though we laugh, an unmissable heaviness settles between us. Our lives are veering off down different paths. After tomorrow, who’s to say if we’ll ever have another night such as this: existing in each other’s company, poking fun without a care in the world.
Soon, we will both be queens beholden to interests outside of our family and beloved home of Lucernia. Soon, we will cease to exist as simply Rose and Ivy.
“I’ll always be there for you, Little Sister,” Rose says as though she can hear my innermost thoughts. “An ocean would not stop me were you ever to need me. Nor would the threat of imprisonment keep me from flaying that pretty king alive if he hurt your heart.”
I’m broken by the tears evident in her voice, only made whole again when she hugs me tighter. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her—no lengths I wouldn’t go to protect my sister’s precious heart. “I know, Rosie, and I love you.”
Wrapped in the warm embrace of my most trusted companion, I drift away into a deep and restful sleep. There, the fairies guide my dreams toward the three alphas I can’t seem to escape.