Page 2 of Violet

“Where is he, anyway?” I ask.

“Study,” Rue says.

Of course. It’s almost a rhetorical question at this point.

He’s up at all hours in Dad’s study, hunched over books and ledgers, instead of being out and meeting Omegas.

Rue leans forward, eyes on the Queen Bee’s Stitch post as she rewatches it, then she looks up. “Maybe a prince will come!”

I laugh. “No princes.”

“What are you going to wear to the first one, Vi? The Bee says the Monarch might be looking for a jewel or silk or perfume or?—”

“Rue.” I cut her off. “It’s ages away.”

She bites her lip and looks out the window, down onto the grounds of our country home. We have a townhouse, too, for when we have evenings in the city. “I know, it’s just…” Rue turns back to me. “Being seen as the most precious thing is dreamy, and I know it’s going to be you.”

“Puh-leeze.” Iris stomps up to us. She snatches the phone, presses play, and rolls her eyes as Rue takes back her precious phone.

“You should get the app, Iris. Or a cat.”

“I don’t want either, brat,” she says. “I don’t need the Council or a wannabe telling me how to be like everyone else and get excited by archaic chauvinist ways. Just because I’m an Omega doesn’t mean I need to sniff a man out so I can feel complete. That’s bullshit.”

“Iris!” Rue gasps and melodramatically clutches her chest. “My ears!” Then she preens. “We’re all beautiful and glorious Omegas. Five perfect Omegas under one roof! We’re practically famous, Iris. Famous!” She holds out her left hand and gazes at it. “Destined to mate well.” Rue looks at Iris. “And you try to burn my perfect Omega ears!”

“If anyone should be getting mated” —Iris makes airquotes with her fingers as she leans against the wall— “it’s Heath. But he’s finally realized no one can stand his attitude and decided to skip it.”

“He’s running the family and Dad’s business,” Rue says, crossing her arms.

“And get your boot off the wall, Iris,” I scold.

She’s stunning, big green eyes and dark hair. She’s wearing her makeup armor—thick eyeliner and dark lipstick—and a black T-shirt with some band’s name that I don’t recognize, and a short black pleated skirt with thick black stockings and big boots.

“What if we all mate with five handsome brothers?” Rue looks at us.

“Oh, God.” I face palm.

“You’re hopeless.” Iris rolls her eyes at Rue.

“She’s young,” I say with a small smile.

“And blissfully naïve.”

I shrug.

“You should get off your phone, Rue,” Iris says. “It’ll rot your brain, turn you into an automaton.”

“And get a mate?” She sighs happily. “I can live with that.”

“Can you live with this imaginary mate going to jail?” Iris raises a brow. “You’re fourteen.”

“Depends,” Rue says cheerfully. “Is this a cushy imaginary prison?”

“I need to get some chores done,” I mutter to Iris. “Can I trust you not to kill Rue?”

She deadpans. “No.”

“Yes!” Rue cries. “No one would kill me.” She jumps up onto the window seat and spins. “I’m too cute.”

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