Having a family and kids of my own is what I’ve always wanted, but now, the stress of getting those things is weighing down on me. It’s too much.
“Violet…” Dahlia’s voice is calm and full of concern.
I draw in a deep breath and paste on my faux smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“Can I come with you, at least?”
“Of course.”
We head out, arm in arm, and Marigold, who some might describe as flighty but is much sharper than others give her credit for, sees me and bounds over. “You need more backup?”
“I don’t need?—”
“You may want to reconsider. Mom’s working the picnic for you, but these girls are all out in their catty glory, so you need backup.” Mari leans in. “Besides, I want to catch a real glimpse of the Monarch herself. Do you think she’ll mingle?”
“I don’t think mingling is on her to-do list,” Dahlia murmurs.
“But,” Mari says, “she’ll have spies everywhere. Not to mention the Queen Bee.” She nods once. “Keep your eyes peeled.” Then she dances off.
As she does so, two girls approach us, both blonde. Lara I know, the other I don’t. Lara’s hair is the color of ice, and she wears the palest blue with sequins, gems, and glitter. It’s like an elevated summer dress pretending to be a ball gown. And the other girl is in gold to go with her gold hair. Her dress says fancy cocktail hour with the stars.
“Alicia, this,” Lara says, looking me up and down, “is Violet Gardener.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say politely.”
The other girl smiles prettily, but there’s no warmth in her blue eyes. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Mari suddenly appears. “Cupcakes?”
The two girls rear back.
“No,” Lara hisses. “Do you know how much fat is in those?”
“And sugar?” Alicia says, the gold woven through her hair glinting. I get the sinking feeling I’m woefully underdressed. “Why not just offer us an XL on a plate.”
“Along with a heart attack.” Lara shudders.
Mari smiles and bites deeply into a cupcake, then closes her eyes and moans. “So buttery, so sweet, sogood.”
Alicia looks down her nose as though she’s just seen something utterly disagreeable. “Just know you and your…common little family might have bred a whole lot of Omegas,” Alicia says, “but that’s nothing on real money, real beauty, real class. By first ball, no one will even know your name, Daisy.”
“It’sViolet,” Dahlia says, voice tight and small.
“You have to admit,” Lara says, “you’ve never stood out, and looking at you now, you still don’t. But you were once nice to me, so I’ll make sure to send the leftovers your way. Rumorhas it someone famous will be in the Season this year. And he’s all mine.”
“Mine, you mean,” Alicia says. “That dreamy movie star, Asher St. James.”
“Who?” I ask.
I knowofhim. His name is familiar, but I haven’t seen any of his movies, unlike Mari and Rue. But why would a famous Alpha come here to our little island when he has a dazzling career in Emporia?
“This isn’t a competition,” I tell them. “We’re looking for our mates, possibly our love matches. So I wish you both the best?—”
“Did you hear that? Little Miss Boring believes inlove.” Lara smirks.
“You’ll get the dregs, if you’re lucky. Maybe on your fifth Season—” Alicia stops as someone barrels into her. Then she shrieks. “Oh my god. Wine? You spilled wine on me!”
“Oh no,” Iris deadpans. “My bad. And it’s not wine. It’s extra-concentrated cranberry juice. Very hard to get out.”