Breakfast is a chilly affair. The girls know something is amiss and Letitia, in particular, keeps shifting her gaze between Morgana and me, nostrils flaring as if to deduce the cause via scent alone.

"How was Lord Blackwood, Your Majesty?"

I want to strangle the bitch with my bare hands, but I don't. Morgana won't defend me from Letitia's barbs today. I can only imagine she wouldn't take kindly to an assault, either. Instead, I imagine grinding the beta's bones between my teeth as I tear into a tiny sausage link.

"Quite satisfactory," Morgana replies coolly, sipping her tea. "He will be joining me at Daroonga."

Her announcement takes me by surprise and I nearly choke on my sausage. I break into a coughing fit and desperately reach for my teacup, pouring the hot liquid down my throat. A footman rushes over and thumps me on the back, causing tea to slosh all over the tablecloth and onto my trousers. The teacup slips from my grasp and shatters on the wooden floor. Pain shoots up my legs and I double over, hacking up a lung into the embroidered napkins.

"Water! Water!" I hear the footman hiss.

My stomach clenches, threatening to spill its meager contents all over the table. Someone presses a glass into my hands, urging me to drink.

After a brief pause, I drop the napkin and down the contents in one gulp. "More," I rasp, thrusting the glass back at the anonymous footman.

While I wait, I use the napkin to wipe my nose, my hands shaking as I do so. Through tear-glazed eyes, I take stock of the girls watching me, their perfect faces etched with various levels of horror.

"Are you all right, Issa?"

Her words are compassionate, but the look on her face is anything but. I nod automatically and accept another glass of water from the footman.

"Wipe your face," Morgana says, tossing a clean napkin my way. "We can't have tears and snot around the alpha."

My cheeks light up with a fire that could surely burn away the tears. I duck my head and dutifully scrub my face, splashing some water on my burning cheeks and drinking the rest. When I look up, I see Elaine and Thara barely hiding smirks behind their teacups; Petra is very interested in stirring her tea and Letitia's expression is neutral—except for the tiny upwards curl of her lip.

A sob rises in my throat and I swallow hard, lower lip trembling. Don't cry, Issa. For the love of the goddess, don't cry in front of them. Between last night and this morning, I can't remember a time when I felt so humiliated.

My thighs throb dully, reminding me of the wet stains on my trousers. "Excuse me," I say, rising. "I should go back to my room and change. Mustn't look poorly in front of the alpha," I finish in a rush, eyes stinging with unshed tears. I drop a brief curtsey and exit the small breakfast nook without waiting for Morgana to dismiss me.

My feet fly over the wooden floors, racing toward my room. I don't care how many servants witness my flight; I need to be alone. If there's one thing I will not do, it's have a meltdown in public.

I reach my room, fling the door open, and slam it shut, collapsing on the rug. Tears of frustration and agony flow unchecked down my face, causing a small wet patch to form around my hands. I can't do this anymore. I want to go home. My stomach, already sore from coughing, clenches painfully. Goddess, I think I'm going to vomit.

There's a sharp knock on my door and someone slips inside without waiting for my reply.

"Go away," I rasp, nails digging into the rug. Whoever it is, they can go to hell. Haven't I suffered enough today?

"Oh, my lady," Kaia says, dropping to the floor beside me. "What happened?"

I lift my head slowly and Kaia gasps, covering her face with both hands. I draw a long, shuddering breath and dash at my wet cheeks, smearing tears and snot all over my hunting jacket.

"Oh, you poor thing," Kaia says, pulling a plain white handkerchief from an apron pocket and handing it to me. "Here, dry your eyes and tell me everything."

Her kindness unlocks the floodgates. It spills out of me—all of it—until I'm a blubbering mess: Letitia and her cohorts, how Morgana jealously claimed Lord Blackwood, her use of compulsion, and our fight. Throughout it all, Kaia sits quietly, hands in her lap. By the end of the retelling, an almost cathartic calm falls over me. I feel weak, but strangely unburdened.

The handkerchief is sopping wet; Kaia plucks it from my hands and gives me a clean one.

"What are you going to do?" she asks.

"Go home?" I reply, my voice barely a whisper. "It's what they've wanted since we arrived."

Kaia cocks her head. "And give them the satisfaction of being right?"

I sigh and take a deep breath. "It doesn't matter anymore. They can snivel and gossip about me all they want. I won't hear of it back in Stormrider."

My maid cocks her head, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. She opens her mouth, pauses, then—

The door to my suite swings wide and Morgana strides into the room. "Leave," she commands Kaia.

Kaia's eyes widen and she bolts for the door, moving more quickly than I've ever seen her do. Morgana watches her leave, then shuts the door behind her. I stare at her from the floor, clutching a sodden handkerchief between my hands. By the goddess, why is she here?

Morgana tilts her head slightly and crosses her arms. "What are you doing down there?"

"Having a breakdown."

The flippant comment flies from my lips without regard for status. Morgana lifts a pale eyebrow. "We're going to be late for the hunt. Wash your face and let's go."

I stare at her. She cannot be serious. "I'm going home, Mor."

"Home? Why?"

I blink. Did she hit her head on the way here? "Because you made it clear that you're the queen and I am your subject. And you used compulsion on me," I add when she doesn't reply.

"That?" Morgana sighs and taps her fingers against her arm dismissively.

My knees are starting to ache from kneeling on the floor. I shift my position and sit cross-legged. She doesn't get it, I think.

When I don't answer, Morgana makes a noise deep in her throat and tosses her hands in the air. "Oh, come on, Issa! Don't look at me like that."

"How should I look at Your Majesty?"

She frowns. "You're being awfully impertinent."

I sigh and rock back and forth. "Then compel me into submission."

"Fuck, Issa! Stop acting like an asshole."

"You first."

Morgana sucks in a breath, her irises glowing amber. I cringe as power crackles throughout the room. Oh, I've over-stepped myself this time. But the pressure shifts and all the air comes rushing back in. Morgana's eyes return to their usual blue.

She drops to the floor and spreads her arms. "I've been under a lot of pressure!" she exclaims.

As if that's a valid excuse. I lean back, turning my head to regard her out of one eye.

"I have!" Morgana repeats emphatically. "Those stupid counselors and wanting me to take a mate." She reaches out and grabs my hands. She forgets her own strength, jerking me forward until I nearly smash my face into the floor.

"Ugh!" I grunt, banging my elbows down to prevent a broken nose.

"Geez, Issa," Morgana mutters, pushing me upright. "Are you all right?"

My elbows sting. I pull my hands from her grasp—no mean feat—and rub them until the pain abates. "No."

She gapes. "What do you want from me?"

"An apology."

The look that crosses her face tells me it never occurred to her to say she was sorry. Her lower jaw juts out slightly as she considers. "Do you want Lord Blackwood back?"

I nearly laugh. "No." She can have him. I don't want to consort with a man whose interests are so easily swayed.

"Oh." Morgana glances at the floor, picking at her trousers. "Well, how about I promise not to take another man from you?"

She says it as if it's an afterthought. I lick my lips. "I suppose it's something."

A smile lights Morgana's face. "I'm sorry, Issa." She leans forward and covers my hand with hers. "You can't leave me here by myself. I'd be lost without you."

I used to think that was true; now, I'm beginning to doubt the sentiment. I give her a half-hearted nod.

Misinterpreting me yet again, Morgana grins and squeezes my hands. "Good! Now, let's get you cleaned up. I've been looking forward to this hunt!"

I let her help me to my feet and guide me to the bathing room, where the alpha queen personally cleans off my face and helps me choose new trousers and jacket. I'm sure she believes that everything is fine between us, but an uneasiness sits in my belly. A real friend, no matter their status, would never attempt to bend the other to their will. A real friend wouldn't offer the man she stole in a fit of jealousy.

Morgana is right in one regard—she is under a lot of pressure. However, that doesn't give her the right to treat me as she did. So, I've decided to stay—for now. As to whether I will forgive the queen, that is to be seen.