Page 74 of The Princess and the Pack

Unfortunately, being the prime alpha of this pack means I need to play shepherd to our lost packmate. It’s my job to fix these last little hurts so we can all move on to solve the real problems that lie ahead.

One of them being the chaos our spitfire omega kicked up at court yesterday when she claimed another Fate-blessed mate. Cillian has been fielding question after question with no direction on how to answer. He doesn’t want to make a definitive statement without Ivy’s input.

As much as I admire Cillian for his diplomacy and for thinking of the feelings of our mate, he needs to take action and do it quickly. All this straddling the fence has made things so needlessly messy. I, for one, am ready to put all this uncertainty to bed.

Ivy is our omega. She’s accepted the bond between two of her mates—neither of which is her husband. As soon as anyone sees Oran’s mark on her throat, they’ll know for certain what we plan to do. It’s best we get ahead of the rumor mill while we can.

I sigh, resigned to a morning not spent inside the sweet warmth of my sensual, blue-eyed siren. Ivy’s still asleep, wrapped up in Oran’s arms, and I don’t want to disturb her rest. She needs all she can get to prepare for the hard work her body will have to put in to keep up with three alphas in rut.

Leaning over her back, I press one soft kiss to her temple, whisper a promise to see her soon, and take my leave.

I have a king to counsel and not much time to make things right.

* * *

I findCillian wallowing in his study. Lucky for me, I’m not the only one here to talk some sense into our sovereign.

Around the room sit the people I trust most in this world, outside my pack—a collection of our closest allies, and some of the most powerful people in all of Namara.

Tiernan and Fiona sit on a settee across from the triplets, the picture of noble grace. Not only are Lord and Lady Dempsey the king’s truest friends but also, the largest landowners outside of the Crown. Their packmate, Sir Liam, stands behind the pair with a hand on his omega’s shoulder.

Ciaran, and Callan—both heirs to the throne—are seated on either side of my moping packmate. Were the nobles at court to rebel against Cillian, neither would stand for such a thing. Ciaran idolizes his brother, and Cal has about as much interest in ruling as he does in being celibate for the rest of his life: none.

“Sloan. It’s good you’re here,” Tiernan calls to me in greeting. “Domhnall is kicking off over the queen’s public claim on Oran.”

“He wants his son installed on the throne beside Cillian and Ivy,” Fiona adds.

“This could be good though,” Ciaran offers. “We could use his machinations to our advantage.”

Before yesterday, we suspected Oran’s arsehole father would never support pack living. I still doubt he would if not for his misguided notion of benefiting from his son’s good fortune. But the prince is right. We can use this when addressing the court. Once we’ve achieved our ends, I’ll have no problem putting Domhnall Rafferty firmly in his place.

“Cillian,” I grumble. “Time to pull your head out of your arse,”

The king droops in his seat—his head in hands. Despite my harsh words, I sink to my knees, offering him both my fealty and friendship.

He looks up then, his ice-blue eyes ringed red from unrest. “She won’t have me. She won’t even forgive me.”

Unbelievable.

First, I have to deal with Oran’s uncertainty, and now, because Cillian’s had to wait his turn to win our omega’s forgiveness, he gives me this? I’m not having it.

While I’m not usually one for violence, and I’m certain in any circle this would be considered treason, I smack the king ’round the back of the head.

My packmate’s eyes nearly bulge right out of his pretty head while Callan cackles beside us. Cillian’s anger rises to the surface quickly, his cheeks red. Too bad I’m not going to let him throw a tantrum when we’ve got so much still to accomplish.

Ivy’s heat could be here tonight for all we know. The time for indecision has passed. It was Cillian who wanted to accelerate our timeline, and it’s him we’re waiting on now.

“Sloan. What in the gods damn?—”

“Stupid games, stupid prizes, Your Majesty,” I say before he can feel even more sorry for himself than he already does. “I love you like my kin and I’d gladly trade my life for yours, but you sound like a fucking eejit right now.”

Cillian laughs, a manic sort of sound that sounds wrong in his mouth. My good-natured king has lost his head, and I’m here to help him find it. I had hoped our companions would have chimed in by now. At least offered some encouragement for Cillian to act, but at its heart, this is a pack matter.

“Listen to me, you thick-headed little shite. Ivy loves you—she wants you with us in the bond. So put that nonsense to bed right now and listen while I tell you what you’re going to do today.”

Cillian’s hard stare softens then, hearing the truth about Ivy’s feelings. I was ready to let them work this out on their own but neither seem keen on communicating their desires. On the one hand, Ivy wants Cillian to prove he would do anything for her. She needs to see action over words. Cillian, on the other hand, needs reassurance that our omega truly wants the future our pack is prepared to give her despite the potential for backlash.

If getting involved means we can finally know peace after a year of waiting and planning for this next step, so be it.

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