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Her concern warms my heart. Other parents would be appalled to know that their Beta son was marrying a cold Omega, yet she has never been anything but accepting.
“I am.” I reach out to squeeze my fingers around her hand, staring into those refined, delicate features that she passed on to Lennart, almost undiluted by her husband’s harsher genes.
“It’s normal to feel anxious on the day of one’s mating.”
I smile. “Yes, I know.” According to everyone I’ve spoken to—and in the past few days, every person I’ve ever met has sought me out to selflessly bestow their opinions upon me—anxiety, fear, anticipation, eagerness, excitement are all acceptable emotions to experience before the impending ceremony.
The one sentiment never listed was relief, which may not be the hallmark of a happy bride but is what currently overwhelms me. I am relieved and grateful that Lennart decided to take me as his and give me a chance to build the family I desire. He is handsome and intelligent, and he has been loving and supportive toward me since we met while apprenticing under the same healer. He started professing his love at fourteen and first kissed me at fifteen, on the outside, under the shade of a kelp forest, on the fifth day of a particularly warm Low.
It was a dry, unpleasant kiss. When he told me, “I’m going to mate you, Sofia Kuznetsov,” I laughed in his face, then told him that he was an entire year younger than me and that I wasn’t going to mate anyone I wasn’t madly in love with.
I meant it, too. Lennart was never more than a friend. But after my botched presentation, he was the only person who never looked at me with frustration or disappointment. His affection never wavered. And by the fourth time he asked me to mate him, I said yes.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have. After all, I can take care of myself, even without my father. I could make a living as a healer. But I want the kind of companionship that comes with romantic love and a family. I want to take care of someone and be taken care of, to cherish and be cherished. I want tonotfeel alone. And if that means settling for less than true love, amicable companionship will suffice.
I’ve been open with Lennart about the reality of my feelings. Still, I cannot help wondering whether I’m taking advantage of him.
I bring the tea to my lips, but my stomach is too unsettled, and I can’t manage a single sip. “Lady Larsen?” I ask, not meeting my own eyes in the mirror.
“Yes?”
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough.”
“Thanked me? For what?”
“For how incredibly supportive of Lennart’s and my union you have been. I know I am barely an Omega?—”
“Nonsense.” From behind, her palms wrap around my shoulders. “You are a well-read, educated girl. There is no such thing as ‘barely an Omega.’”
“But it’s true.” I twist back. “I haven’t fully presented. I might not be able to have kids, and?—”
“Hush.” Her knuckles caress my face, loving. Like a mother. “You will be an excellent mate for Lennart. And I cannot wait to have you as my daughter.”
“Even if I?—”
“Sofia, stop worrying.” Her expression is stern, but kind. “Plus, who knows? Maybe mating will awaken something in you. Maybe it will trigger the rest of your presentation.”
I frown, skeptical. Cold Omegas are rare, but there are no reports of them being pushed through the rest of their presentation by mating. It’s wishful thinking, and I don’t want her to harbor false hope.
“Come, now. It’ll take us a while to get you into the dress I chose for you. You’ll hate me for it, but I guarantee that it’ll be worth it.”
I force my lips into a smile.This is for the best, I tell myself. Then I repeat it over and over, like a mantra. I’ll mate Lennart, make him as happy as I humanly can, and become happy myself.
I rise from my chair and walk with sure steps toward the blissful future I’m determined to create.
Chapter4
THE GUEST
Sofia
Ilook like someone who was born on the upper levels of the keep. Like someone who’d still know what the heat of the sun feels like even on the third evening of a slow-rising High. I look wealthy and beautiful, nothing like the commoner I really am, and it’s all the dress’s doing.
It’s unique, a long sheath that combines strategically placed scraps of silver metal and flowing yards of nearly translucent white fabric. Healers’ uniforms are made of rough, thick materials stained dark to hide the blood, which makes this the most revealing garment I’ve ever worn, bar none. And yet, as I pad my way down the stone corridor, heading to my mating barefoot as is customary, I tell myself that I should feel grateful for the times changing. After all, just decades ago Omegas were expected to attend their mating ceremonies naked.
“What are you thinking of?” Lara asks, reaching out to brush my hand with hers. The walk toward the ceremony is a group affair steeped in tradition—an Omega, surrounded by all the Omegas in their family. Since I have no surviving relatives of any designation and my relationship with most Omegas of House Larsen is practically nonexistent, Lara stepped in to escort me. On my left is Lady Larsen. All around us, House Larsen’s omnipresent guards. “I’m so glad you let my mother choose your dress. You look fantastic. Lennart will choke on his tongue.”
“It’s a work of art,” I say with a smile, trying not to think about the fact that I didn’tlether do much. If we were doing this according to custom, the expense of the mating attire would fall on the Omega’s family, and whatever I could afford would have certainly brought embarrassment upon House Larsen.
