I envy humans with their ability to get positively fall-down drunk within a few cups. With my blasted werewolf physiology, I need at least two full bottles of wine to reach the proper level of muzzy-headedness required to tolerate this dinner. Sadly, all I've managed to drink are four glasses; the fifth sits in front of me, barely touched, because I've been told there is a cut-off.

I think that's preposterous because Morgana is on her seventh. But she is the queen, after all.

Lord Crimsonshadow leans over as I cut into the salmon fillet we've just been served. "Since you're enjoying the wine, my lady, I'd like to give you two bottles to take home to Daroonga."

A fresh, citrusy scent of lemon rises, mingling with the herbs and breadcrumb crust. "Oh, that is ... most generous of you, my lord," I reply, taking a bite of fish.

As if on cue, Letitia leans over to Petra and whispers something in her ear. I sigh internally and chew; let them tell Morgana. She can have Russell Crimsonshadow, too, if she so desires.

"You seem subdued this evening, my lady," the alpha's son remarks, sipping his wine. "Is there anything I can do to raise your spirits?"

Let me drink straight from the bottle? I muse dryly. Since the truth would be far more damning, I lie and say, "I fear the heat was too much for me today."

Lord Crimsonshadow nods reflectively. "Yes, it does take guests by surprise. Especially those with thicker northern coats like yourself."

I nod and take another bite. Lord Crimsonshadow continues, "Even those of us born to this climate can be felled by it now and again."

"Is that so?" I reply, pushing bits of fish around my plate. By the time I'm able to eat, it will undoubtedly be cold. Nothing tastes worse than cold fish sitting in its congealing juices.

The alpha's son takes note. "I'm afraid I'm keeping you from your meal, Lady Wintergale. Please, continue to eat."

Protocol dictates that I should be demure and beg the lord to continue, my meal be damned. But I am hungry. "Thank you, my lord." Without wasting another moment, I put all of my focus into eating.

Polite chatter fills the dining hall. The beta female next to me—thankfully not the alpha's aunt—refrains from engaging me in conversation. As I'm cutting green beans into more manageable bites, a footman appears next to Lord Crimsonshadow's shoulder and passes him a slip of paper.

"Thank you," he murmurs. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he opens it beneath the table. His mouth tightens and I catch the subtle crinkle of paper as he crushes whatever the missive is in his hand.

"May I get you another glass of wine, Lady Wintergale?"

I look at the alpha's son as he gestures to my nearly empty glass. "I've been told there is a cut-off."

He scoffs. "Nonsense." He lifts his head and gestures to a footman. "Another glass for the queen's handmaiden."

Petra leans over to Letitia and I see her lips form a word that looks suspiciously like "drunkard". I stab at the green beans, piling several on my fork and popping them into my mouth. Do I need to give these bitches any more ammunition? Perhaps I should ease off on the wine for the rest of the night.

A maid comes around and tops off my glass. "Leave the bottle," Lord Crimsonshadow orders.

"Of course, my lord," the omega murmurs, setting the bottle in front of him. She turns and glides away like a silent shadow.

"Thank you," I tell him.

"Wine and company make a meal, my mother always says."

I glance over at Luna Amelia; her face is a mask of politeness as she converses with Morgana. A glass of water, not wine, is at hand.

"My mother shares a similar sentiment," I reply, swallowing against a sudden lump in my throat. Just talking about my mother makes me yearn for home in a deeply visceral way.

Thankfully, Lord Crimsonshadow does not pick up on my inner thoughts. A small smile stretches the heir's lips; pleased, no doubt, we have made a connection.

Dinner concludes and dessert is served: a small cup of raspberry sorbet is placed in front of me, with a tiny spoon that looks more at home in the fist of a pup than a grown wolf. I'll never understand the need for such tiny silverware. Perhaps because it is such a small portion and takes longer to eat? Whatever the reason, I dutifully take tiny bites of the sorbet and sip water as the evening draws to a close.

Or, I so believe.

As I scrape the last vestiges of sorbet from my tiny cup, Alpha Thorne announces that we will be withdrawing to Luna Amelia's sitting room for tea.

Goddess.

Would Morgana allow me to retreat to my quarters if I complained of a headache? I consider it for as long as it takes me to notice the girls grouping like a gaggle of geese, hands up to their mouths so I cannot see their lips form damning words. I take a deep breath and smooth the folds of my dress as Lord Crimsonshadow pulls out my chair. Best to watch the vipers with my own two eyes than give them free reign to spill their poison in my absence.

"My lady?"

I look up as Lord Crimsonshadow offers me his arm. The gesture surprises me so much a soft, startled "Oh!" leaves my lips. The alpha's son grins, but there is a tightness in his expression. I look across the table as his cousin, Lord Blackwood, extends his arm to Morgana.

We begin walking out the door with the rest of the diners, but Lord Crimsonshadow hangs back until we're the last to leave the room. I glance at him, tilting my head slightly.

"I was hoping to put a little distance between us and the others before I asked you a question, Lady Wintergale."

A small knot of worry forms in my stomach, pressing against the sweetness of the sorbet. "What might that be, my lord?"

"Well, I was wondering if I might entertain you tonight?"

My feet stumble, but Lord Crimsonshadow keeps me upright. He cannot be serious! I desperately search for a diplomatic way to reject his request. "I, uh ... that is quite generous of you, my lord, but we will be leaving early and I wish to rest more after today's hunt."

His jaw hardens. "I see. I should like you to get as much rest as possible, my lady."

The knot of worry morphs into a flight of butterflies as Lord Crimsonshadow fixes his gaze on the hallway. I lower my chin and stare at the floor as we walk. Did I just commit an egregious act by refusing the alpha's son?

Lord Crimsonshadow releases my arm as we step into his mother's sitting room and walks over to where his father stands in the back, talking to a tall, dark beta male. My eyes dart around, taking in the elegant décor, soft pillows and plush furniture. Morgana and the other girls are seated around a phonograph; Luna Amelia holds collections of records in one hand, showing them to the queen. An omega maid extends a delicate teacup toward me, but I walk past her to a set of open doors on the other side of the room, drawn by the sound of running water.

A small patio with two lounge chairs looks out into a tiny garden complete with a large rock formation. Water gurgles pleasantly from the top, splashing to the bottom and sending droplets into the air.

"Lady Wintergale."

I spin around, clutching my bodice with one hand as my heart leaps. Alpha Thorne stands between the two doors, a towering figure of power and authority. Even though his power is contained, I can feel my shoulders begin to round in submission.

"Alpha," I murmur, dropping into a curtsey. "I apologize for coming out here. I will return indoors—"

"I hear you rejected my son's advances," he interrupts curtly, folding his arms.

I lift my chin. "Yes, Alpha."

He stares at me intently. "What is it? Do you not find him attractive? You certainly found my nephew worthy of your time. Not to mention my enforcer."

Ah, goddess. Heat burns my cheeks; not even the spray from the water fountain can cool my discomfort.

I lick my lips and swallow, slowly straightening. "Your son is a fine man, Alpha ..."

He cuts me off brusquely. "And what if the Queen asked you to fuck him? You would do that, yes?"

I hesitate. Long enough for Alpha Thorne to pounce. "Rumors are the Queen rejects the advice of her counselors. Instead of focusing on forging an alliance with a strong pack, she chooses to fuck her way through a pile of lovers without care for this kingdom."

He's not exactly wrong.

"You are her handmaiden, her childhood best friend. This kingdom counts on you to steer her in the right direction."

Do they? I was under the impression I was the laughing stock of Noctis.

"What path is that, Alpha? The one that you and the others deem appropriate?" I ask quietly.

He does not correct me. "Yes. I need you to persuade her that Russell is an excellent match and would make a fine consort."

His son? Prince Consort? I do not know enough of Lord Crimsonshadow to make such an estimate. Right now, all he has going for him is a pleasing face and body and enough intelligence to carry a conversation worthy of society.

By that measure, every man Morgana has taken to bed would make an exceptional mate.

I look at him sidelong. "You overestimate my influence on the Queen."

Alpha Thorne raises an eyebrow. "Do I? The Queen must be brought to heel, or the packs will revolt, Isabel." He stuns me with the use of my first name. "And what do you think they will do with her handmaiden, hm? The Whore of Daroonga?"

I'm quiet. I don't want to think about that.

"Outcast. Rogue. If you're lucky." He reaches out and takes my chin in hand, lifting my eyes to meet his. "Do this, and I will personally see to it that you receive a beta mate. Any beta of your choosing. Then, and only then, will you have what you lack, little gamma."

"And what is that?" I hear myself whisper, dreading the answer. One that I know in my heart but have never given voice.

"Respect."

He drops my chin and I shift my eyes toward the sitting room. The phonograph is playing a light, merry tune, drowning out most conversations. What a coincidence.

"Your best friend has not raised you to beta status in three years," Alpha Thorne continues, his words a knife to my heart. "Is that not strange? Most monarchs do not wait so long to reward loyalty." His voice drops and he leans close. "I do not think your friend has any intention of making you a beta, little handmaiden."

I freeze, breath caught in my chest.

"And I see by your reaction that you know this to be true." Alpha Thorne cocks his head, lifting a dark eyebrow. "Think about my proposal, Isabel, and tell me in the morning. I will have a footman waiting outside your room." He inclines his head, leaving me alone on the patio with the sound of running water and my own thoughts.