Page 85 of Knot What She Seems
Even so, I can’t ignore the trickle of pride I feel at being recognized in the first place. I wonder what Headmaster Graves would say if he discovered it isn’t an alpha being awarded but an omega.
No omega has ever received the Medal of Valor. I have to bite my lip to hide a grin as I imagine Ted’s and Caran’s faces when I tell them.
“To celebrate such a monumental occasion, we’ll be traveling to Darling Academy in two weeks’ time for another ball.” Graves’s smile broadens, especially when he finally elicits a positive reaction from the crowd. “But…not only that, we’ll be joined by Atlas Academy for Strategic Minds and Iris Academy for Omegas.”
This time, the applause is almost deafening. Atlas Academy for Strategic Minds is an all-women’s alpha school that teaches them to analyze battles and develop strategies to ensure our victory. There’s also a stellar aviation program there—one that I secretly wanted to join years ago.
Iris Academy for Omegas is an all-men’s school. Like the women at Darling, they’re taught how to care for the household and their alphas, but also how to protect their mates if the need arises.
I honestly have no idea why all the schools are separated. If you ask me, it’s an archaic and sexist tradition. Then again, I think the same thing about alphas, betas, and omegas. Our society thrives on sexism and on this outdated belief that birth determines worth. My omega caste is a supposed limitation that I refuse to acknowledge.
The excitement in the air is almost palpable, and I know why. More omegas present will give alpha groups a better chance at finding their scent match and vice versa. Sometimes, male alphas and female alphas will also discover they’re in the same pack by mingling at events like this. I know Harper lamented the other day about wanting a pack of sexy alpha men and at least one female as her own. Maybe she’ll stumble upon her scent matches at this ball.
But god, I can’t believe that the school is organizing an entire event around my—I mean,Teddie’sheroics.
How am I supposed to be Brylee the omega and Teddie the esteemed alpha on the same day?
Panic beats like a snare drum in my head.
Maybe Brylee can be sick and refuse to leave her room. Then, Teddie can attend instead.
But what if Madam Ellora insists I make an appearance? What if Brock and his packmates are there? What if Harper checks in on me?
I’m not sure if I can do this alone anymore. Though I’m giving a wide-eyed, full-toothed smile to the crowd, I’m not at all happy about this news.
An idea occurs to me then, and I weigh the pros and cons.
If I could have help…
Not help from Sam or Colter, who are restricted to the ballroom only at Darling Academy, but help from an omega.
From someone who I may even consider a friend.
I think it’s time I bring Harper on board.
29
BRYLEE
“Areyou even listening to me? An Eros professor—PROFESSOR—broke into your room and stole your panties! Even if he’s that scent match you’ve been avoiding, this is unheard of!” Harper leans over and grabs one of my pillows off my bed. She lobs it at me when I don’t drop my jaw enough for her liking. “Brylee! This is a scandal!”
“Is it?” I squeak as I catch the pillow. My toes curl inside my slippers where I stand next to my dresser, my heavy backpack hidden just behind the side.
I was hardly able to sneak back here after the assembly, make it up the tree, into my room, and toss on pajamas before my lovely roommate burst in with wild eyes and a four-inch red heel brandished in her hand like a weapon.
At first, I panicked, thinking that Darling Academy had also been attacked.
But then, Harper lowered the shoe and proceeded to tell me in excruciating detail about every second of Kylian’s dastardly entry into my room. It’s obviously him based on her description and his ridiculous statement as he tossed the panties back at her. Of all the men in Alpha Team X, he’s always the most happy-go-lucky, though that’s kind of like saying he’s the friendliest of a group of sharks.
After the night I’ve had, Harper’s story hardly merits more than a raised brow.
Panty thieves just can’t compare to cold-blooded killers.
My reactions are completely unacceptable, and Harper reaches up to pull on her hair before she remembers that it’s twisted into one of those heatless curl headbands. Instead, she clenches her fists and shakes them at me in frustration. “I cannot believe you! This is huge!”
“Yeah. He really shouldn’t have done that,” I agree, trying to soothe her. “Dick move.”
“Giant dick move.”
