Page 49 of Fated or Knot

“They have the alpha’s scents. A kerchief from Marius,” I began. She handed it to me and ordered me to throw it away. “Part of the cloak Tormund was wearing when we met.” It went flying next. “And…the mask Fal was wearing at the Omega Masquerade.”

Cymora tilted it, letting the light glitter off its encrusted gems. “No, I’m keeping this,” she muttered, pocketing it. “You know what’s been the most offensive thing to me, Lark?”

I held my tongue, sucking down heaving breaths. My nest was gone, the last of the alphas’ scents too until they stopped using the scent-blocking soap. Even with my stepfamily out here with me, I had never felt so alone.

She answered her own question with a sneer. “What you’ve been wearing, these clothes the princes bought for you. Like your old dresses weren’t enough. I’ve held my tongue while you’ve frolicked and pretended that you’re good enough to join their pack. Likeyoucould ever be a princess.” She and Laurel’s melodious mermaid voices harmonized their mocking laughter.

She took the cloak and shook it out, admiring its snowy fur lining. “Someday, another will wear this, if I allow you to keep it,” she mused, mostly to herself. “On your knees, Lark.”

“Yes, Stepmother.” I held on to the railing as I went down, my whole body trembling with the usual vibrations of the train.

I shook with nerves too, knowing one nudge would send me sprawling over the edge of the platform and to my certain death. I didn’t have enough essence to fly back to the train or to the closest section of dry land. I’d either die upon impact with the water or drown shortly after from exhaustion. Such a death might be a mercy compared to what my stepfamily had planned for me.

Cymora stood over me, her eyes flashing. Scheming, always scheming. Her gaze was on me, kneeling on the platform, my whole body shaking and moving with each jostle that ran through the train. A flash of white teeth met her lip as her attention turned to the sea below us. She considered the deadly drop with a thoughtful tilt of her head before making the same hum she always did when she decided against something.

A little spark flared in my chest.The princes would miss me.If I only endured a little longer, I would see them again. Like Kauz kept telling me, I was not alone anymore.

She can’t have what she wants if I die now.I was sure that she’d seek to fool the princes later by ordering me to illusion Laurel as myself. If they bit her, that was it. She’d have a princess for a daughter and access to endless wealth, plus a royal pardon for her crimes, courtesy of Laurel. What else could she possibly want from them?

She stuck her leg out. “You know what to do,” she said.

Yes, I did. She wanted to know that her punishment worked, that I was hers forevermore. I lowered myself further, until my lips pressed to the top of her shoe. Then I said what I thought she wanted to hear. “I’m sorry, Stepmother. I have remembered my place as your servant and ever-dedicated stepchild. I won’t disrespect you or Laurel again.”

“Very good,” Cymora said. “You will not say a word of this to the princes.”

“Yes, Stepmother.”

“Hand me your necklace.”

My fingers flew to the little silver bird charm. Tormund’s gift. I wasn’t even shocked that she wanted it too and unlatched it to place it in her waiting palm. She gave it to Laurel. “It’s probably a gift. You should hide it, and the earrings too, until we deem it safe.”

“Okay,” Laurel answered.

“As I was saying…if the princes ask where any of the jewelry went, you tell them you took it off,” she instructed.

“Yes, Stepmother,” I mumbled, feeling numbness steal through my insides. At least, with her closing the loopholes that may reveal her power over me, the punishment was over.

“You may stand.”

She took hold of my face in firm grip, sinking her fingertips into my cheeks and forcing my gaze up to meet hers. We stared at one another, truth to truth. I hated her and her control over me with all that I was. And she liked that, relished in it, because she hated me too. She’d hated me since before I knew what hate was.

She glanced away, eyeing the platform under us. Before I realized what she had planned, she flattened my cloak over a piece of sharp metal sticking out of the walkway. I gasped and reached for the fabric, pulling it as her foot came down; between us, there was aripthat sent an unpleasant roll of static down my spine.

“Oops,” Cymora said, letting it go. “Tell the princes you tripped…if they even notice. Come now, Laurel, it’s lunchtime.”

They left me there with the finality of a closed door. I took in the damage, the hanging fibers of ruined cloth and the sullied print in the fur where she’d put her shoe. The rip couldn’t have been longer than a foot, but it was all I could see, bisecting the fur cloak. Pain seized me anew.

I bundled it to me and wailed, releasing a keen that was pure wounded omega. I made other sounds I didn’t realize I knew, half-feral and anguished. It’d been the gift I’d loved above the others, even the blanket. The one thing I would’ve dove off the train to save. And now it wasruined.

Still clutching it, I fumbled for the door, heading inside half-blinded by pain, both physical and otherwise. If I collapsed outside, there’d be nothing saving me from a plummet into the Doras Sea.

I just had to get back to my room. Tormund would come back with a sandwich and hold me, and everything would be okay. For now. But willing myself to rally wasn’t working like it usually did. I sobbed into the cloak’s soft lining all the way back. WhenCymora kicked me, she’d aggravated my limp, so the trip was slow and agonizing.

Yet when I twisted the knob, my room was still empty. Not all that much time had passed at all, for the princes to still be at lunch. They might even be lingering over their plates, thinking they were giving me more private time. I released a bitter whine and lay across one of the couches, face down on top of my ruined cloak.

I could take a few minutes to pity myself before Ihadto stop crying. If they came back now and started asking questions, it’d only make everything worse when I was compelled to lie or sit in silence.

Better they not know I’d been punished at all.

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