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“I did advise her to go to bed early,” I heard Eleanor tell one of the women behind me. “My daughters never seem to listen.”

That sounded so much like something my mum might have said that my chest ached again, but this time I smiled.

I returned to the bedroom in nothing but a bath gown. A woman I’d never seen before had bathed, scrubbed and exfoliated me, then removed what felt like every hair below my neck.

Eleanor looked up from her pad. “You’re just in time.” She smiled past me. “Thank you, Clarissa.”

Clarissa. So that was her name. I probably should’ve asked before she got that familiar with me.

“It was my pleasure, Lady Eleanor,” she said, then left.

The bedroom had been transformed. A long table stood beneath the windows, covered with enough breakfast to feed the family and the entire household staff. A three-way standing mirror occupied one corner, and a second table beside it was crowded with brushes, pins, cosmetics, bottles, little jars and things I couldn’t even begin to identify. Four women waited nearby, looking alarmingly eager to start whatever they had planned for me.

I said nothing as Eleanor took my hand and led me to a chair in front of the mirror.

“Take your seat, sweetling. They’ll attend to your skin and nails first.”

I obeyed and tried to relax. She inspected my hands, then showed them to two of the waiting women. They were Betas; I was getting very good at identifying designations by scent.

“Be particularly thorough,” Eleanor instructed, turning one of my hands slightly to explain exactly what she wanted.

They took her at her word. Before I knew it, one woman was working on my nails and another on my toes. Someone rubbed cream into my arms, and the woman behind me combed through my hair, discussing oils and pins with Eleanor.

I ate as much as I could manage: two slices of nectarine and a handful of nuts. Someone kept taking the little plate from my lap and returning it with different things, trying to find something to tempt me. But I couldn’t eat, not even out of politeness. My stomach was too twisted with nerves.

I was really doing this, wasn’t I?

Time began moving strangely, and everything blurred together until I felt almost underwater.

“Here, sweetling.” Eleanor’s voice brought me back. She held out a small cup filled with something dark.

I took it and nearly pulled a face at the smell. “What is it?”

“Grurra tea.”

“It smells so bad.”

One of the women laughed, and Eleanor chuckled. “It will settle your nerves. It’s customary for an Omega to drink it on the morning of her mating.”

Settle my nerves? I drank it so quickly I nearly choked; the women around me laughed even harder.

“I think I need another one.”

“Sweetling—”

She must’ve seen the desperation on my face because she reluctantly poured me another cup. I drank that one much more slowly. Being the centre of everyone’s attention was only making my nerves worse.

The closest I’d ever come to being pampered was letting Nora do my nails because she loved that sort of thing, but that was just us at home. Now four strangers were examining every inch of me and discussing their findings as though I wasn’t sitting right there.

My hands were too dry, my elbows needed more exfoliating, and the skin around my nails needed extra moisturising. One woman thought I should consider some kind of light treatment for my legs in the future.

They weren’t being rude. They seemed determined to make every bit of me perfect, and somehow that made it even worse. God, this was nerve-racking.

Thankfully, the bedroom doors opened, and Ivy walked in, drawing everyone’s attention away from me. She carried an enormous black garment bag over one arm, and a young woman followed with an even bigger one. Nora came in behind them, holding a carved wooden box against her chest. Thank God.

“No.” Eleanor stepped away from me.

“You haven’t yet seen what I’ve brought, Mother,” Ivy said.