Page 24 of Promised to the Alpha Prince

“Oh,” I said. Maybe I knew that, actually, I just… I was…

When I pulled my chair out, it was loud. I winced. I sat down, feeling heat flush to my face. This was horrible.

Luckily, then, everyone else sat down.

I gazed down at my plate, which was covered in a gold edging, with a fancy gilded napkin folded in the middle of it. I was mortified. I wished like hell that I would stop blushing.

Servants came into the room from a different doorway than the one we’d all come through, carrying serving dishes. They served Dmitri and I first, and it was the kind of serving where they put the dish in front of us with a flourish, and then we had to take the serving utensils and dip food onto our plate.

I felt self-conscious about how much I took, glancing at Dmitri for guidance on what was appropriate.

Then, the food sat on our plates and Dmitri didn’t touch it, so I didn’t touch it.

The others at the table served themselves and conversation began amongst them, a low rumble that grew louder.

But Dmitri didn’t speak.

Eventually, I realized other people were eating, so I decided I would eat too. The food was typical Valhn fare. There were two kinds of sausages, both wrapped in various sorts of breading—one a kind of pastry-type flaky dough and the other a sort of sausage roll. The only vegetable was very, very cooked green beans, swimming in bacon and some kind of vinegary-herbed sauce.

At a formal dinner, there would be various courses. Typically, it would start with a stew or soup and then progress to a course with fish or poultry, and then progress to a heavier meat-and-potatoes dish and then, finally, finish with some kind of dessert.

Luncheon wasn’t known for courses, and since we hadn’t had soup or another starter, I wasn’t sure if this was all we’d be eating?

I was hungry. I started tucking into the food, maybe eating too quickly, but it gave me something to do.

Dmitri didn’t say anything.

I looked over at him, and he was poking at his green beans with a fork, his nostrils flaring as if he smelled something bad.

Except, no, that was me, and I was relatively sure he liked my scent.

He wouldn’t have agreed to this match if he hadn’t liked my scent, would he?

It wasn’t possible not to like the scent of an opposite designation, was it? I’d never scented an alpha scent that I didn’t find pleasant anyway.

Insecure, Aurelie, I reminded myself. He’s finding this all daunting. You must make him at ease. You’re his omega. Help him.

Right. I took another bite of sausage and pastry—it was flaky and buttery and heavenly in my mouth. I chewed and tried to think of what to say.

“I hope your journey wasn’t too unpleasant,” said Dmitri suddenly.

I was chewing. I started, hand over my mouth, swallowing as quickly as I could. Fuck, I was blushing again. Could I be worse at this? “Oh, no, Your Highness, there was nothing unpleasant about it at all.”

“You don’t have to…” He squared his shoulders. “That is, it’s up to you, but when you feel comfortable addressing me by a first name, you may do so.”

“Oh!” I blinked. “Yes, of course. Dmitri.” I recovered, forcing myself to smile. I was not awful at polite conversation, really, all evidence to the contrary. “And you must call me Aurelie, please. I would very much like that.” There, that was better. I kept smiling.

“Aurelie,” he repeated, his voice dropping into something gravelly. He held my gaze for a long moment, and his voice seemed to jerk through me.

I perfumed wildly, so intensely that the others at the table all turned to look at Dmitri and me with knowing smiles on their faces.

Dmitri’s eyes bulged. He set down his fork.

I winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“You can’t help it, obviously,” he said gruffly.

“I could try,” I said, ducking down my head.

---