Page 106 of Titus

A ride didn’t interest me, so the stables were out. I’d try the garden off the north wing, near the drawing room.

My two guards were summoned and off we went. The main hall and north wing were both active tonight, still occupied in getting ready for tomorrow’s festivities. Just thinking about tomorrow had my breathing and heartbeat accelerating.

I wrapped my cloak tighter around me, gripping the fur lining. I was angry. Angry at everyone and everything. Angry at the gods for making me Omega. Angry at my father, my mother, the Owl. Lysander most of all. I didn’t care if he was in the same position as me. I didn’t care that I’d made a promise. I hated the Ongahri customs and traditions. I even hated that I was angry.

Being angry was better than the terror, though, better than the self-pity. Anger gave me a hint of control, even though I knew it was illusory.

I found the glass door Demos and I had gone through last night, the one that led to the garden, and pulled it open. I told my guards to stay back. Surprisingly, they did, standing in position at the door.

The large garden was more rectangle than square. There were three paths. I chose the left and started walking. A dusting of snow shower began to fall but wasn’t dense enough to even wet my hair or face. The sky was a light gray, a sea of winter clouds promising more snow. The path turned, and I kept walking, seeking the center.

I tried reasoning with myself, assuring that frightened—and appalled—part inside me that, sure, I could have sex with Lysander in front of a hundred people. I’d get it over with, hope it wouldn’t take long, and play my role with the promise that I’d be leaving on a boat, catching a ship, and be on an island by this time in several weeks.

That part, however, screamed “no!”

But I didn’t have a choice! And that’s what made me so angry, I thought, as I came upon a new path, which would lead me to the garden proper, the center. This path branched out into several more, and I chose one at random. I spotted a bench and sat down, holding my face in my hands.

Snow kissed the crown of my head with tiny drops of icy water. I looked up, closed my eyes, and let the cool wetness touch my face.

I was so tired of feelings. I craved the days when life was so much more simpler, when I could depend on just myself. Ever since I’d woken up that morning in the nest, when Demos had carried me to the cabin for a bath, I had lost who I was. Everything became so slippery, so complicated. Where was my self-confidence? Where was my throw-caution-to-the-wind outlook? I was sick of myself. I had never cried so many tears, had never felt so afraid and small.

It was grief I was feeling more than anything, grief for myself and who I used to be, grief at who I imagined I could become but never would.

Taking a deep breath, my eyes still closed, I bared my soul to the heavens and asked the gods for guidance. For something. Some sign that would lead me to the right path. I told them I felt lost and alone. Defeated and misplaced.

“My lady? Are you alright?” a deep voice asked.

Lucius.

I opened my eyes.

“May I?” He motioned at the bench I was on.

I shrugged. “Sure.”

He sat down, and I felt his body heat. He smelled like summer rain and a hint of something sweet. I stared straight ahead, my litany of prayers playing in my mind.

“Are you all right?” he asked again. “You realize it’s snowing, right?”

I nodded, feeling numb. “I’m praying to the gods.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. I heard your call, Princess.”

My lips twitched, and I looked at him. “Is it the Alpha in you that makes you that arrogant?”

He chuckled, and the sound was something dark and sultry. I had no idea laughter could have such a tone.

“Perhaps,” he said quietly. “I’ll just keep you company.”

My eyes went back to the snow-filled clouds above us, and I continued my reverie, both of us sitting in companionable silence with only the soft hush of snow touching the hedges around us.

After a few minutes passed by, I heard voices coming up the path. I turned to see who they belonged to. No one was there. They were probably on another path parallel to the one we were on. I ignored them and turned my eyes back up to the sky, blinking away the snowflakes that fell.

A masculine laugh, followed by a voice I was familiar with, had me looking down the path again.

“Ly, you dog. I remember that time.”

It was Cornelius’ voice. I stiffened, wishing I was alone, that Lucius wasn’t next to me. Why did they have to be here too?

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