Page 59 of The Princess and the Pack

“I don’t mean to upset you, darling, it’s just... This is important and not pleasant to hear. I promise it will make sense soon. Is it all right with you if I continue?” Cillian asks.

Hesitantly, I nod. Sloan’s thumb strokes the back of my hand—a grounding force when my head feels chaotic.

“My mother knew this wasn’t right. Her mother had not gotten so sick. Nor her grandmother. No healer my father had at the castle could come up with a reason for her deterioration. But my mother knew what was wrong, deep down.”

Cillian’s eyes are filled with so much sorrow, and I wonder if he loved his mother. If she was good to him and his brothers.

“What was it?” My voice sounds small as the question hits my ears. I don’t like this feeling. This helplessness that’s creeping over me.

“Did you know that the staff here—that common folk across the kingdoms live in packs?”

I huff, clearly that answer is a deflection to what I asked. “Well, of course I know that. I’m not stupid, Cillian.”

“Of course not, omega. You arenotstupid, but like the rest of the people in our station, we’ve been misled. Omegas need more than just one alpha—not just for their heats, but to feel the constant love, support, and nurturing that is the basic requirement for someone of your designation. It’s not just something omegas crave, but a necessity.”

“I—” I’ve always known it was natural for me to want more than one alpha. I wasn’t raised to believe such a thing. But in my heart I felt it to be true. Society, on the other hand, made me feel as though it was wrong.

Cillian hurries on like he’ll lose his nerve. “My mother knew she needed more than one alpha—that she was sick because of it. And when she told my father, he?—”

Oran reaches out, gripping his packmate’s shoulder and squeezing tightly. A move meant to soothe. It warms my heart to see them like that.

“He wouldn’t hear of it. He called packs barbaric, and said she was greedy, lecherous, and all things one should never say to any omega—much less their bonded mate and the mother of their children.”

Tears form, clogging my throat with thick emotions. Grief. Despair. I’m heartbroken for his mother—angry that Cillian’s father could be so callous.

“That is terrible,” I whisper. It’s not much in ways of consolation, but I’m still trying to make sense of this all.

“It is,” my husband agrees. “It’s awful and cruel, but there’s more.”

“More?”

Cillian nods. “My mother continued to get sicker. She used to spend her days with my brothers and me. She was so kind—loved us so much. But my father shut her away from us, from all of the court while he carried on as if nothing was wrong. I had to sneak into her chambers just to see her. Ciaran cried so often. Cal ran away many times. It wasterrible, but at the time I didn’t know why my mother was sick. I only knew she wasn’t getting better and we weren’t allowed to ask about her health.”

I hate his father—that vile, despicable man. I hate him, and I’m happy he’s dead. I don’t much care if it’s polite to think so either.

“But there was hope. At least, that’s what I thought when I overheard one of my father’s guards tell him of a cure. I was curious about their conversation and hid myself so I could listen. Sir Ennis, a knight who had served my father loyally, was freshly back at court and happened upon my mother on one of the few walks she was allowed. He said he knew right away she was his scent match. He pleaded with my father to allow him to see her, bond with her, that he would remain a secret, and stay hidden so long as he could help save her.”

Cracks form in my heart. What a tragedy. An unfair cruelty she was suffering. “What happened next?”

“I was certain my father would be overjoyed to learn my mother could be made well again. I was too young to understand what Sir Ennis was asking. I’d only known about scent matches through stories. But instead my father laughed. Helaughed, Ivy. He said he’d rather they both die than ever stoop to anything resembling a pack. He would never share his wife, hispossession, with a common-born alpha. Or any alpha, for that matter.”

I hold back tears that threaten to break free. “Gods, Cillian, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right, darling,” he coos in an attempt to comfort me. “It’s just, I loved my mother very much, and I felt it was my duty to save her. For years, I tried to convince my father, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Until one day when I was fifteen, I instead tried to convince my her to leave. My father had sent Sir Ennis away, but I vowed I would help find him so they could have their pack and be healthy.”

“Why didn’t she go?”

Cillian sighs, saddened by it all. “She was bonded to my father. Even if he was a selfish bastard, she felt loyal to him, and she didn’t want to leave us. It was an impossible position, and soon after, she passed.”

Tears fall hot against my cheeks as I mourn a woman I didn’t know. One who obviously loved my alpha so much she was willing to die to stay near him.

“Don’t cry, love,” Oran says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a very familiar handkerchief. Silk, with vines of ivy decorating the border.

I startle. “Where did you get this? I had it with me—Cillian gave this to me.”

“Oran gave it to you, darling. Just as Sloan left you the flowers. Courting gifts from your alphas,” Cillian offers.

My heart.Gods,these alphas. These darling men. “Thank you for retrieving this for me. I didn’t realize I had lost it.” I say to Oran, dabbing at my tears with the precious gift.

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