Chapter 137

Violet’s POV

“Render.”

The word echoed all around me in a red room I didn’t recognize.

“Render, render, render.”

The word grew louder, the red haze around me clearing until my father’s face came into view, young and healthy, decades before he became ill.

And I realized it was a dream.

“Render her magic useless!” he yelled at me, fury flaming in his eyes like I had never seen before.

“Whose magic? Mom’s?” I asked, my voice small like a child’s.

“Render her magic useless!” he screamed the meaningless sentence again. He was so tall, taller than I remembered him, but when I looked down at my own body, I realized he wasn’t tall: I was short.

I was a child.

“I don’t know what you mean!” I cried, my young voice high and squeaky.

“Render her magic useless!”

I was so scared. Scared of his anger, scared that I didn’t understand what was happening. Then the familiarity of the fear pulled at something buried within me.

Not a dream. A memory.

“Render her magic useless! I command you!”

This wasn’t the father I remembered. The kind, gentle man who never abused his power or force anyone to do anything. This was some twisted version of him that had never truly existed.

Or had he?

Then he transformed not into his wolf, but into a part wolf, part bear with shark teeth and sprang toward me.

My eyes shot open in my dimly lit room. I strained to listen for danger as I blinked my eyes open, adjusting to the light of dawn, but I heard nothing beyond my own labored breathing.

At least that last part was definitely a dream – or rather a nightmare. Werewolves who were part bear and part shark didn’t exist. But the rest of it…

Dream or memory? I couldn’t quite tell.

Something rustled on my comforter as I adjusted my arms aching from being still for so long. Looking down, I couldn’t quite make out what had made the sound, so I reached over to turn on the lamp on my nightstand. As I did, a sea of rustling cascaded from me as if a million light-weighted items fell off me as I rose.

When I turned on the lamp, I saw why.

Every inch of my bedspread was covered with wildflowers. And not just any wildflowers. I recognized the species that specifically grew outside Theodore’s secret cabin in Midnight’s woods.

Then I glanced around and realized I was wrong.

Every inch of my room was covered with the wildflowers. My bed, the floor, my dresser – every single surface imaginable.

I couldn’t help the smile blooming along my cheeks at this symbol of where Theo and I spent our honeymoon. The memory warmed me until I realized I had no idea where these flowers had come from.

Suddenly, they felt less like a symbol of hope and love and more like a deathly omen.

“Kincaid!”

It was an effort not to scream more than his name. I very rarely lost my cool, but the idea that someone could have broken in here without my knowing…

A year ago, I would have welcomed the challenge. But with this baby growing inside me, with so many secrets that could get me and the people I loved killed, I didn’t want to play any games.

I reached into my pillow case, grazing past Theo’s mother’s token that I kept hidden there. Every day, I missed it around my neck, but I couldn’t risk someone recognizing it and realizing I hadn’t given up on Theo. Confirming that it was safely where I left it, I reached further for the dagger beyond it.

Pulling the dagger from my pillowcase, I stood on my bed, pressing my back to the headboard. I didn’t dare step off the bed yet in case an assailant was lying in wait underneath.

Kincaid burst through my bedroom door, recognizing the urgency in my call for him enough to not bother knocking first. He surveyed me, scanning me for injuries, before his gaze fell over the flowers. “What the…?”

“I’m unharmed, but I don’t know how all these flowers got here, or if the person who put brought them is still here.”

He closed my bedroom door behind him and together we checked every possible hiding location. When we found no one, either ready to strike or to claim credit for their prank, we merely cleaned up the flowers, dumping them out my window for the wind to sweep them away. I could tell by my Beta’s furrowed brow and clenched jaw that he was just as worried about the flowers as I was.

Just as we dumped the final flower over the windowsill, a thundering of footsteps approached from the hallway. I could hear Lily hissing in exasperation. “She needs her sleep; she’s not well!”

Kincaid took a defensive position in front of me as my bedroom door slammed open for the second time. Of all people, Olivia Bronson stood in my doorway, Lily’s apologetic face framed over her shoulder.

“Well, well, well,” Olivia cooed, cocking her head as she arched a brow at Kincaid protecting me in my nightgown. “What do we have here?”

I rolled my eyes, stepping out from behind my Beta. “Oh, please. He has a girlfriend, and it’s not me.”

“Actually, Dahlia’s my fiancée.”

I whirled on Kincaid. “What?”

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Surprise?”

“Oh, Kincaid!” I embraced him heartily, Olivia’s sudden appearance immediately forgotten. “I’m so happy for you both!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” And just that quickly, Olivia made her presence known again. “Engagement, love, joy to the world, good for you.”

I stepped out of my hug with Kincaid to scowl at her, but she only crossed her arms. “I need a word, Alpha Donovan.” Somehow, she made my title sound like an insult.

It was impressive, if I was being honest.

After I assured Lily and Kincaid that I was fine, and Kincaid and I exchanged a glance to confirm the little flower incident would stay between us, Olivia and I were left alone in my bedroom.

The last time I’d seen her, she had openly suggested treason. Although unknown to her, I was already planning on some light treason of my own, so the surprise for me was rather the rare moment that her and my interests were aligned.

Still, I hesitated to admit as much to her because as much power and influence as her family name wielded, I could only trust her as far as I could serve her interests – interests she wasn’t always forthcoming about. I had successfully avoided continuing our conversation when I had conveniently gotten sick, and my feigned illness since then had seemingly kept her at bay.

Until now.

“I’m not even dressed,” I motioned to my nightgown, “so we might as well skip the rest of the formalities.”

Olivia examined her cuticles. “I’ve been trying not to take offense to how long it’s been since we last met, seeing as our conversation was interrupted.”

“By my illness.”

Olivia sighed in disappointment like I was lying, as if she hadn’t seen me vomit in front of her.

“Nobles and Alphas across the territories, especially women, are becoming restless against the crown. The land restructuring, the tax increase, and Lucas’ pardon are exactly the kindling we need. We have to act fast.”

“Olivia—”

“And you’re not sick.”

I actually scoffed. Did she think my vomit was some kind of illusion? But the next thing she said froze me in place.

“You’re pregnant.”