Chapter 224

Theodore’s POV

“When I pledged my allegiance to you, I wasn’t exactly envisioning that making me a beta-tester,” Riley said drily as he set up an account with Rogue Finder. I was so excited about this, trying so hard to keep from giving away the information we had, that I didn’t even respond.

Riley looked up from his screen. “That was a joke, Your Majesty. I would scrub toilets for you if you asked.”

I realized he had misinterpreted my silence. “Oh, no, I know,” I waved him off, gesturing him to continue creating his account.

“So basically,” he spoke as he filled in each field, “rogues create an account, and if anyone requests to connect with them, they get notified?”

“Mmhm.” I glanced excitedly at Violet and Sophia, who were biting back smiles of their own. We had filled Sophia in on the situation on our way to Riley’s room.

“That’s actually super cool,” Riley added, typing and clicking as he spoke. “Especially after what we all witnessed at Dahlia and Kincaid’s wedding. Even if I wasn’t doing this to test out the user experience for rogues at your request, I would have signed up anyway, even if it is unlikely that my Aunt Trish…”

Riley stopped speaking abruptly, and I peeked over his shoulder at his completed account with one new notification. Blinking, he clicked on the red flag.

His breath hitched as his aunt’s name appeared on the screen.

He looked up at me, searching my face. “You knew,” he breathed, and I nodded, hoping he wouldn’t hold it against me.

He returned his attention to the screen. “Aunt Trish,” he said.

Then he immediately broke down into loud sobs, burying his face in his hands. I lowered to my knees to wrap an arm around his waist where he sat in his desk chair.

These were the tears of a kid who had been betrayed by the only people who were supposed to love him unconditionally. A kid who had been separated by death and circumstance from the only ones who chose to love him as his parents should have. A kid who had been running from the pain, running to survive, always running, only to find out that it could be better.

That it was about to get better.

I said nothing as he cried, only held him so that he knew he wasn’t alone.

We had invited Trish Meckles to dinner with us. We made sure Riley knew it was an invitation, not an obligation. We really did want to meet her though.

In the end, Riley met with her in a park in private first. They spent the entire afternoon together, and then they met us for dinner in the royal gardens.

Trish Meckles was a strong, tan woman who appeared as though she had once been fair-skinned before many long days of working hard in the sun. Her clothes were modest and practical, a brown buttoned shirt with matching brown pants. Her hair was cropped short, and even that managed to look more functional than stylish.

It was clear from the start that Aunt Trish did not approve of royalty.

“I suppose,” she said, eyes on me from across the wrought iron table dressed with a red and white checkered tablecloth, “that’s it’s easy to gift a dot of land to rogues when you have a personal backyard that extends to the horizon.” She glared into the admittedly large royal gardens with disapproval.

My chest caved at the comment, even as Riley chastised his aunt under his breath. “These are the people who have taken me in, who help rogues.”

“Yeah,” Trish leaned back in her chair. “I’ve seen the slums they stick rogues in and call it charity.”

Riley offered both me and Violet an apologetic look. “They developed the Rogue Finder that allowed you to find me,” he reminded his aunt.

Trish stilled, looking between me and Violet slowly. “That’s true,” she conceded, her eyes warming genuinely – but only barely. “And for that, I will always be grateful.”

She turned to Riley then, placing an affectionate hand on his forearm. He melted a little at the touch, suddenly looking like the kid he must have been the last time he saw her.

“You’re right, though,” Violet added, and I was grateful for her chiming in and taking the attention off me. “The royal palace exhibits a disgusting and unnecessary amount of wealth.”

Trish cocked her head at Violet, curious but not yet won over.

“Theo and I have been talking about it since we moved in,” my wife went on. “What parts of the palace could be donated or sold to fund more meaningful projects for the country. Who might be impacted if we sold half the land the gardens sit on, such as the gardeners and landscapers. We want to do right by the greatest number of werewolves we can.”

“Meaningful projects like what?” Trish challenged.

“Off the record,” Violet started out of habit, “there’s an imbalance of resources among the territories. Everyone would benefit it we could find ways to distribute the resources more evenly.”

Violet took a sip of wine, but Trish said nothing, clearly waiting for more.

“As another example, I would love to explore funding for increased access to education and knowledge throughout the territories via libraries and maybe more universities, similar to what I’m doing in Darkmoon, especially for women.”

Trish studied my mate’s face so intently that I hardly dared breathe.

Riley’s own intensity was making more sense to me now, especially if this was someone he admired.

Then Trish turned her penetrating gaze to me. It was embarrassing how loud my ensuing swallow was.

“Riley tells me he shared our story with you.”

“Yes.”

Trish’s nostrils flared as her gaze somehow hardened more than it already was.

“Your brother killed my wife.”

I took a deep breath, biting back my retort of “half-brother”. Instead, I said, “And that is one of an inhumanely long list of reasons we engineered my brother’s death.”

That wasn’t the official royal recounting of how Owen died. Ultimately, if he hadn’t broken his own law, if he hadn’t lied to the High Priestess about it, he would still be alive.

But we definitely knew what we were doing when we accused him at Dahlia and Kincaid’s wedding in front of nearly every Alpha in the country.

Trish looked me over, assessing. It was impressive, honestly, how much her hard-to-win-over personality made me want her to like me more. Though that probably had more to do with wanting to get along with Riley’s family since Riley was our family, too.

“I suppose I have that to thank you both for, too,” Trish said in reference to Owen’s death, looking between the two of us.

“If you’re going to sit here,” Riley spoke up, sitting a little straighter as he did, “and judge them for being royal even though you know they’re a far better option than King Owen, then you might as well judge me for serving the man who killed Aunt Crystal, too.”

Trish’s eyes softened as she looked to Riley. “That was different. You were doing what you had to to survive.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I did it for me. But everything, everything Violet and Theo do is for others.”

Trish lifted her chin, almost like she was impressed with her nephew.

“Not everything we do is for others,” Violet amended, and I whirled on her, incredulous at the hole she was digging for us.

My gorgeous mate only leaned her elbows on the table. “I’d love to keep you around, Trish, to live here at the palace or work for us or consult with us – whatever feels least to you like we’re trying to bribe you.”

Trish raised a curious eyebrow.

“You’re a straight shooter,” Violet observed. “We need someone who will tell us when we’re wrong or overstepping or missing something, someone who’s not afraid to hurt our feelings. What do you say?”

Trish leaned back in her chair, glancing at the hopeful plea in her nephew’s eyes. “I’m sure we can think of something.”