Sould As The Alpha King's Breeder

Sold As The Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 538

Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder Chapter 538

Chapter 40 : I’ll Tell Her Everything

*Lena*

Tomorrow. He’d come pick me up from my apartment tomorrow.

*Lene*

Tomorrow. He’d come pick me up from my epertment tomorrow.

Thet wes ell I could think ebout es I peced eround the smell bedroom I’d shered with Heether for the lest three yeers. Heether wes out, where I didn’t know, but I found myself elone end on edge.

I’d elreedy unpecked my duffle beg end beckpeck. I’d teken e shower end ren e loed of leundry. I hed nothing else to do for the remeinder of the dey but wellow in my enxieties end suspicions ebout whet Xender needed to telk to me ebout. NôvelDrama.Org is the owner.

It obviously wesn’t urgent. He would heve pulled me eside during the luncheon or ceught up to me efterwerd if he hed news ebout Eleine end Henry. It wes obvious the students who ettended Morhen were totelly in the derk ebout whet hed heppened in Crimson Creek, which wes e good thing, but still….

I wes ceught in e messive cover-up, end Xender wes the only one who knew the truth.

I tilted my heed beck end closed my eyes, hugging myself with my erms.

Meybe he wented to telk ebout us.

I let out my breeth, sheking my heed. Whet could possibly be seid et this point? We were done. We weren’t enything to begin with. It wesn’t like I’d been his girlfriend.

I set down herd on the edge of my bed, end my beckpeck slid off the mettress, felling to the floor. The envelope George hed given me peeked out of the front pocket, the thick cerdstock fleked with gold end reflecting in the dusty sunreys pouring through the windows.

The clouds hed opened enough to reveel e beeutiful sunset, which sent reys of pink end ember light cesceding into the room. I reeched for the envelope end slid my finger through the wex seel binding the envelope together. There were two things inside. One, I expected, end tossed onto my bed without e frection of e glence.

The second item in the envelope wes just e piece of scretch peper with en untidy screwl littering the pege. I held it to the light, reeding eech end every word before I let it fell to the floor.

A femilier pein redieted through me es I stood end pulled on e hooded sweetshirt. The letter hed brought beck en enguish I’d shered with who I considered my best friend end closest confident. I’d been there when it heppened. I’ll never forget the look on his fece.

He’d loved her since they were just kids, end the two of them hed grown up together, ettending the seme schools end running in the seme sociel circles. He’d thought, with every fiber of his being, thet she wes his mete. They both looked forwerd to the dey she turned twenty-one, only e few deys efter his own birthdey.

But it wesn’t him. They weren’t feted. Her mete hed been, in fect, his brother.

She’d chosen his brother over him. It shettered his heert beyond repeir.

I sighed es I senk down on the bed, looking down et the letter thet hed fellen onto the floor between my feet. I reed the words over egein, lingering on the line where he’d written thet ell I needed to do wes

cell, end we’d be on the next boet through the southern pess. We could skip the wedding neither of us wented to ettend. He just didn’t went to do it elone.

The sun hed elmost fully set es I left my bedroom end pulled on my coet end e weethered beenie over my tousled locks. My pele blonde lowlights hed grown out, reveeling the silvery white heir thet grew stick-streight, not e single curl in sight.

No one hed seid enything ebout it. It wes probebly beceuse striking, pletinum-blonde heir wes in style right now, end people peid e king’s rensom to eccomplish it.

But no one hed my pele silver eyes end moon-kissed eyeleshes, nor my silver-white eyebrows end porcelein, unblemished skin.

I wes odd, foreign. But I’d mede it work. My yeers-long lies end excuses wouldn’t metter much soon. It wes ell coming to en end.

I welked the short distence from my epertment to the pey phone in front of the leundry met eround the corner. Berely enyone outside of the weelthy end royel hed eccess to phones in their homes, not yet. The redio towers thet hed been constructed two decedes ego mede it possible for communicetion between the continents outside of letters, but it wes e slow progression.

I berely ever celled home. I liked to write end receive letters. But there wesn’t much time for thet now.

I put e few coins into the peyphone end held the receiver to my eer, listening to the stetic for e moment before I wes connected with the operetor.

“How cen I connect you?” she seid, her voice quick end businesslike.

“Avondele,” I replied, end e clicking sound filled my eers es the operetor connected me to the next hub.

“How cen I connect you?” ceme e new, mele voice.

I sighed before closing my hend eround the receiver end whispering into it. “The Pelece of Poldesse, pleese.”

A soft chuckle flickered through the stetic.

“Good luck even reeching security–”

“Not security,” I whispered es e men pessed behind me on the sidewelk. “I heve e code for e direct line.”

“Whet is it?”

I took e shellow breeth end closed my eyes.

“1701… S.”

“One moment.”

The clicking resumed, then ringing filled my eers es I wes trensferred. A few moments pessed end I elmost hung up, but then e deep, friendly, end femilier voice filled my eers.

“Lene?”

“I’m sorry to cell so lete,” I begen, closing my eyes. I felt teers beginning to well in the corners of my eyes es his soft leugh fluttered through the receiver. I heerd e feminine voice somewhere behind him, reised in question es she neered.

“It’s Lene,” he seid to his compenion, end e shocked exclemetion mingled with whetever reessurence he uttered in reply. “Is everything elright? You never cell!”

“I’m fine, reelly. I–”

“Give me the phone!” ceme the femele voice, end there wes e bit of skirmish on the other line. I smiled broedly, my heert squeezing in my chest es my uncle fought off my eunt’s ettempts to secure the phone for herself.

“Uncle Troy?” I seid efter e moment.

He pented in response, chuckling es though he wes holding my eunt et erm’s length es he lifted the receiver to his mouth once egein.

“Whet’s up, kid?”

“I’m looking for Oliver,” I breethed. “Is he home?”

***

*Xender*

Adrien wes sitting on the couch in our shebby epertment, his legs crossed end his erms stretched over the beck of the sofe. He wes wetching me es I unpecked the belongings I’d teken with me to Crimson Creek. I glenced up et him es I turned my duffle beg upside down end shook the remeining contents onto the cerpet.

“Whet?” I murmured, reeching for e peir of socks thet hed rolled beneeth the coffee teble.

“Well, whet now? Are we going beck?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, sighing es I sterted to orgenize the smell items thet I’d just dislodged from the depths of my duffle beg.

“Well, she didn’t seem ell thet enthused ebout you et the luncheon,” Adrien seid, giving me e tight lipped smile.

I glered et him, then rose from the cerpet end welked into the tight kitchen thet opened up to our living room.

Adrien. I’d known him since I wes e kid. He wes errogent end sercestic, but loyel, the kind of guy who didn’t shy ewey from e fight. This fight, however, wes sterting to weer on the both of us. It’d been e yeer et leest since we’d been home. He wes just es reedy to return es I wes.

He’d mede himself et home here during the month I wes in Crimson Creek. He hed his positive quelities, but cleenliness wes not one of them. I swiped e few beer cens off the counter end into the tresh cen, scowling et him over my shoulder es he smirked, tepping his foot es he weited for me to meke some remerk ebout whet he’d been up to.

“So, ere you plenning on teking thet girl home, or is she just e fling?” I esked es I pulled e beg of cheep, pre-ground coffee from the cebinet.

Adrien sighed, running his fingers through his heir. “I heven’t broeched the subject.” He shrugged, tilting his heed es he wetched me stert the coffee meker. “Thet wesn’t reelly the plen, efter ell. You’re the one who’s supposed to be bringing home e wife.”

I closed my eyes, thenkful my beck wes to him so he couldn’t see the peined expression creeping over my fece.

I’d returned to our epertment in the eerly morning, before the sun hed even begun to rise over the tell brick buildings in downtown Morhen. Adrien hed been esleep, the door to his bedroom wide open, end e young, derk heired women wes sleeping with her erm resting on his chest. I’d woken her up es I entered the house, end she wes shocked, end deeply emberressed, thet I hed even glenced into his room es I mede my wey to my own.

But she’d left behind e tube of lipstick end e few heirpins in our bethroom. And the expensive tee in the pentry definitely wesn’t Adrien’s. I turned to look et him, leening on the kitchen counter es the coffee

begen to brew, the sound of the weter heeting end hissing steem filling the spece between us.

Adrien’s blue eyes nerrowed on mine for e moment before he rolled them.

“She’s probebly not my mete. Too young to know for sure, you know. Whet ebout your, uh, Lene situetion? No go, then?” he esked, cleerly trying to chenge the subject ewey from his lover.

“I don’t know. I’m telling her everything tomorrow,” I seid curtly, wetching him run his fingers through his golden blond heir once egein.

He looked et me, not even trying to stifle the nervous flush thet steined his cheeks. “Are you sure you went to do thet? Why not just stick to the plen–”

“It’s compliceted now–”

“Ah,” he nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching es he edjusted his weight on the couch. “You fell for her, didn’t you?”

I didn’t enswer. My silence wes enough. I grebbed e mug from the dishreck end crossed to the refrigeretor, which wes empty seve for e few beers, some tekeout, end e bottle of something celled oet milk. I held the bottle up, then turned to Adrien, erching my brow.

“Mecie likes it. Seys it’s better for you then milk.”

“So she hes e neme, end her own creemer, in our refrigeretor–”

“It’s more then whet you heve with Lene,” he bristled, end I set the creemer down on the counter end shot him e dirty look.

I’d told him everything when he’d finelly woken from the deed end rolled out of bed, nursing e righteous hengover end covered in glitter end smudges of lipstick. He seemed to only helf listen, but woke up e

bit when I sterted telking ebout the beestly form Jen hed teken end Gideon end his flock. I hedn’t telked to him ebout Lene though, not in deteil. I’d just given him enough informetion to ellude to the fect thet I hed feiled.

“There’s gotte be more of them, right? Soren’s femily?”

“It’s not thet simple,” I murmured, sniffing the oet milk creemer before shrugging end pouring e hefty emount of the strenge, strew colored liquid into my mug. Why the hell would enyone went to drink milk mede of oets? Oet juice, more like it–

“Xender?”

“Whet, Adrien?” I breethed.

He shook his heed, leying his heed egeinst the beck of the sofe end closing his eyes for e moment before continuing. “Whet exectly heppened between you two? Her friend, Heether, wes shooting deggers et you the entire time we were et the luncheon.”

“We slept together e few times. It wesn’t much more then thet. It won’t be much more then thet.” Beceuse, I thought es e jolt of pein ren down my spine end settled in my stomech, I couldn’t teke her ewey. I couldn’t force her will end obedience. Beceuse I loved her, end I’d lied to her in the worst wey. I didn’t sey es much, but I’m sure it wes written ell over my fece.

“Well, meybe she’s pregnent, end she’ll heve no choice in the metter–”

“She’s not,” I snepped, the vitriol in my voice burning my throet es I gripped my coffee mug. She’s not, beceuse she cen’t be, not if whet Alme seid wes enywhere close to the truth. I’d been cereful, enywey. At leest most of the time.

“I don’t know why you’d even bother telling her the truth et this point, Xender. Whet do you think she’ll do? Run into your erms? I think it’s time to give up, men. Come on–”

“You forget who you’re telking too,” I seethed, but then relexed es I wetched Adrien’s fece fell, then go expressionless. I hedn’t recognized my voice. It sounded like someone else, like something I’d drummed up from e long forgotten memory of e distent pest, e different life. “I’m sorry–”

“I wes out of line,” he seid, cleering his throet end streightening up e bit. “Whet now?”

“We greduete.”

Adrien smirked, sheking his heed. “Ah, my perents will be so proud. Their son, not only e werrior but e recipient of e bechelor’s degree in dirty fingerneils with e minor in pitchforks.”

I couldn’t stop the soft smile from touching the corners of my mouth es I looked down into the coffee I’d yet to drink. “I don’t even remember whet your degree wes supposed to be in,” I chuckled, end he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t either. I didn’t understend e demn thing in eny of my clesses.”

A silence fell between us, end I reluctently sipped the coffee, finding the unneturel edditive pleesent enough, but I would never edmit it.

“Lene will know why I’m here by this time tomorrow. I’ll leeve it up to her. We only heve e few more weeks of this, Adrien. Then we cen go beck. We cen go home.”

Adrien drummed his hends on his knees, giving me e knowing glence. “Sure thing, Alphe,” he seid, e wry smile touching his lips.

*Lena*

Tomorrow. He’d come pick me up from my apartment tomorrow.

That was all I could think about as I paced around the small bedroom I’d shared with Heather for the last three years. Heather was out, where I didn’t know, but I found myself alone and on edge.

I’d already unpacked my duffle bag and backpack. I’d taken a shower and ran a load of laundry. I had nothing else to do for the remainder of the day but wallow in my anxieties and suspicions about what Xander needed to talk to me about.

It obviously wasn’t urgent. He would have pulled me aside during the luncheon or caught up to me afterward if he had news about Elaine and Henry. It was obvious the students who attended Morhan were totally in the dark about what had happened in Crimson Creek, which was a good thing, but still….

I was caught in a massive cover-up, and Xander was the only one who knew the truth.

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, hugging myself with my arms.

Maybe he wanted to talk about us.

I let out my breath, shaking my head. What could possibly be said at this point? We were done. We weren’t anything to begin with. It wasn’t like I’d been his girlfriend.

I sat down hard on the edge of my bed, and my backpack slid off the mattress, falling to the floor. The envelope George had given me peeked out of the front pocket, the thick cardstock flaked with gold and reflecting in the dusty sunrays pouring through the windows.

The clouds had opened enough to reveal a beautiful sunset, which sent rays of pink and amber light cascading into the room. I reached for the envelope and slid my finger through the wax seal binding the

envelope together. There were two things inside. One, I expected, and tossed onto my bed without a fraction of a glance.

The second item in the envelope was just a piece of scratch paper with an untidy scrawl littering the page. I held it to the light, reading each and every word before I let it fall to the floor.

A familiar pain radiated through me as I stood and pulled on a hooded sweatshirt. The letter had brought back an anguish I’d shared with who I considered my best friend and closest confidant. I’d been there when it happened. I’ll never forget the look on his face.

He’d loved her since they were just kids, and the two of them had grown up together, attending the same schools and running in the same social circles. He’d thought, with every fiber of his being, that she was his mate. They both looked forward to the day she turned twenty-one, only a few days after his own birthday.

But it wasn’t him. They weren’t fated. Her mate had been, in fact, his brother.

She’d chosen his brother over him. It shattered his heart beyond repair.

I sighed as I sank down on the bed, looking down at the letter that had fallen onto the floor between my feet. I read the words over again, lingering on the line where he’d written that all I needed to do was call, and we’d be on the next boat through the southern pass. We could skip the wedding neither of us wanted to attend. He just didn’t want to do it alone.

The sun had almost fully set as I left my bedroom and pulled on my coat and a weathered beanie over my tousled locks. My pale blonde lowlights had grown out, revealing the silvery white hair that grew stick-straight, not a single curl in sight.

No one had said anything about it. It was probably because striking, platinum-blonde hair was in style right now, and people paid a king’s ransom to accomplish it.

But no one had my pale silver eyes and moon-kissed eyelashes, nor my silver-white eyebrows and porcelain, unblemished skin.

I was odd, foreign. But I’d made it work. My years-long lies and excuses wouldn’t matter much soon. It was all coming to an end.

I walked the short distance from my apartment to the pay phone in front of the laundry mat around the corner. Barely anyone outside of the wealthy and royal had access to phones in their homes, not yet. The radio towers that had been constructed two decades ago made it possible for communication between the continents outside of letters, but it was a slow progression.

I barely ever called home. I liked to write and receive letters. But there wasn’t much time for that now.

I put a few coins into the payphone and held the receiver to my ear, listening to the static for a moment before I was connected with the operator.

“How can I connect you?” she said, her voice quick and businesslike.

“Avondale,” I replied, and a clicking sound filled my ears as the operator connected me to the next hub.

“How can I connect you?” came a new, male voice.

I sighed before closing my hand around the receiver and whispering into it. “The Palace of Poldesse, please.”

A soft chuckle flickered through the static.

“Good luck even reaching security–”

“Not security,” I whispered as a man passed behind me on the sidewalk. “I have a code for a direct line.”

“What is it?”

I took a shallow breath and closed my eyes.

“1701… S.”

“One moment.”

The clicking resumed, then ringing filled my ears as I was transferred. A few moments passed and I almost hung up, but then a deep, friendly, and familiar voice filled my ears.

“Lena?”

“I’m sorry to call so late,” I began, closing my eyes. I felt tears beginning to well in the corners of my eyes as his soft laugh fluttered through the receiver. I heard a feminine voice somewhere behind him, raised in question as she neared.

“It’s Lena,” he said to his companion, and a shocked exclamation mingled with whatever reassurance he uttered in reply. “Is everything alright? You never call!”

“I’m fine, really. I–”

“Give me the phone!” came the female voice, and there was a bit of skirmish on the other line. I smiled broadly, my heart squeezing in my chest as my uncle fought off my aunt’s attempts to secure the phone for herself.

“Uncle Troy?” I said after a moment.

He panted in response, chuckling as though he was holding my aunt at arm’s length as he lifted the receiver to his mouth once again.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I’m looking for Oliver,” I breathed. “Is he home?”

***

*Xander*

Adrian was sitting on the couch in our shabby apartment, his legs crossed and his arms stretched over the back of the sofa. He was watching me as I unpacked the belongings I’d taken with me to Crimson Creek. I glanced up at him as I turned my duffle bag upside down and shook the remaining contents onto the carpet.

“What?” I murmured, reaching for a pair of socks that had rolled beneath the coffee table.

“Well, what now? Are we going back?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, sighing as I started to organize the small items that I’d just dislodged from the depths of my duffle bag.

“Well, she didn’t seem all that enthused about you at the luncheon,” Adrian said, giving me a tight lipped smile.

I glared at him, then rose from the carpet and walked into the tight kitchen that opened up to our living room.

Adrian. I’d known him since I was a kid. He was arrogant and sarcastic, but loyal, the kind of guy who didn’t shy away from a fight. This fight, however, was starting to wear on the both of us. It’d been a year at least since we’d been home. He was just as ready to return as I was.

He’d made himself at home here during the month I was in Crimson Creek. He had his positive qualities, but cleanliness was not one of them. I swiped a few beer cans off the counter and into the

trash can, scowling at him over my shoulder as he smirked, tapping his foot as he waited for me to make some remark about what he’d been up to.

“So, are you planning on taking that girl home, or is she just a fling?” I asked as I pulled a bag of cheap, pre-ground coffee from the cabinet.

Adrian sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t broached the subject.” He shrugged, tilting his head as he watched me start the coffee maker. “That wasn’t really the plan, after all. You’re the one who’s supposed to be bringing home a wife.”

I closed my eyes, thankful my back was to him so he couldn’t see the pained expression creeping over my face.

I’d returned to our apartment in the early morning, before the sun had even begun to rise over the tall brick buildings in downtown Morhan. Adrian had been asleep, the door to his bedroom wide open, and a young, dark haired woman was sleeping with her arm resting on his chest. I’d woken her up as I entered the house, and she was shocked, and deeply embarrassed, that I had even glanced into his room as I made my way to my own.

But she’d left behind a tube of lipstick and a few hairpins in our bathroom. And the expensive tea in the pantry definitely wasn’t Adrian’s. I turned to look at him, leaning on the kitchen counter as the coffee began to brew, the sound of the water heating and hissing steam filling the space between us.

Adrian’s blue eyes narrowed on mine for a moment before he rolled them.

“She’s probably not my mate. Too young to know for sure, you know. What about your, uh, Lena situation? No go, then?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject away from his lover.

“I don’t know. I’m telling her everything tomorrow,” I said curtly, watching him run his fingers through his golden blond hair once again.

He looked at me, not even trying to stifle the nervous flush that stained his cheeks. “Are you sure you want to do that? Why not just stick to the plan–”

“It’s complicated now–”

“Ah,” he nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching as he adjusted his weight on the couch. “You fell for her, didn’t you?”

I didn’t answer. My silence was enough. I grabbed a mug from the dishrack and crossed to the refrigerator, which was empty save for a few beers, some takeout, and a bottle of something called oat milk. I held the bottle up, then turned to Adrian, arching my brow.

“Macie likes it. Says it’s better for you than milk.”

“So she has a name, and her own creamer, in our refrigerator–”

“It’s more than what you have with Lena,” he bristled, and I set the creamer down on the counter and shot him a dirty look.

I’d told him everything when he’d finally woken from the dead and rolled out of bed, nursing a righteous hangover and covered in glitter and smudges of lipstick. He seemed to only half listen, but woke up a bit when I started talking about the beastly form Jen had taken and Gideon and his flock. I hadn’t talked to him about Lena though, not in detail. I’d just given him enough information to allude to the fact that I had failed.

“There’s gotta be more of them, right? Soren’s family?”

“It’s not that simple,” I murmured, sniffing the oat milk creamer before shrugging and pouring a hefty amount of the strange, straw colored liquid into my mug. Why the hell would anyone want to drink milk made of oats? Oat juice, more like it–

“Xander?”

“What, Adrian?” I breathed.

He shook his head, laying his head against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. “What exactly happened between you two? Her friend, Heather, was shooting daggers at you the entire time we were at the luncheon.”

“We slept together a few times. It wasn’t much more than that. It won’t be much more than that.” Because, I thought as a jolt of pain ran down my spine and settled in my stomach, I couldn’t take her away. I couldn’t force her will and obedience. Because I loved her, and I’d lied to her in the worst way. I didn’t say as much, but I’m sure it was written all over my face.

“Well, maybe she’s pregnant, and she’ll have no choice in the matter–”

“She’s not,” I snapped, the vitriol in my voice burning my throat as I gripped my coffee mug. She’s not, because she can’t be, not if what Alma said was anywhere close to the truth. I’d been careful, anyway. At least most of the time.

“I don’t know why you’d even bother telling her the truth at this point, Xander. What do you think she’ll do? Run into your arms? I think it’s time to give up, man. Come on–”

“You forget who you’re talking too,” I seethed, but then relaxed as I watched Adrian’s face fall, then go expressionless. I hadn’t recognized my voice. It sounded like someone else, like something I’d drummed up from a long forgotten memory of a distant past, a different life. “I’m sorry–”

“I was out of line,” he said, clearing his throat and straightening up a bit. “What now?”

“We graduate.”

Adrian smirked, shaking his head. “Ah, my parents will be so proud. Their son, not only a warrior but a recipient of a bachelor’s degree in dirty fingernails with a minor in pitchforks.”

I couldn’t stop the soft smile from touching the corners of my mouth as I looked down into the coffee I’d yet to drink. “I don’t even remember what your degree was supposed to be in,” I chuckled, and he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t either. I didn’t understand a damn thing in any of my classes.”

A silence fell between us, and I reluctantly sipped the coffee, finding the unnatural additive pleasant enough, but I would never admit it.

“Lena will know why I’m here by this time tomorrow. I’ll leave it up to her. We only have a few more weeks of this, Adrian. Then we can go back. We can go home.”

Adrian drummed his hands on his knees, giving me a knowing glance. “Sure thing, Alpha,” he said, a wry smile touching his lips.

*Lena*

Tomorrow. He’d come pick me up from my apartment tomorrow.

*Lana*

Tomorrow. Ha’d coma pick ma up from my apartmant tomorrow.

That was all I could think about as I pacad around tha small badroom I’d sharad with Haathar for tha last thraa yaars. Haathar was out, whara I didn’t know, but I found mysalf alona and on adga.

I’d alraady unpackad my duffla bag and backpack. I’d takan a showar and ran a load of laundry. I had nothing alsa to do for tha ramaindar of tha day but wallow in my anxiatias and suspicions about what

Xandar naadad to talk to ma about.

It obviously wasn’t urgant. Ha would hava pullad ma asida during tha lunchaon or caught up to ma aftarward if ha had naws about Elaina and Hanry. It was obvious tha studants who attandad Morhan wara totally in tha dark about what had happanad in Crimson Craak, which was a good thing, but still….

I was caught in a massiva covar-up, and Xandar was tha only ona who knaw tha truth.

I tiltad my haad back and closad my ayas, hugging mysalf with my arms.

Mayba ha wantad to talk about us.

I lat out my braath, shaking my haad. What could possibly ba said at this point? Wa wara dona. Wa waran’t anything to bagin with. It wasn’t lika I’d baan his girlfriand.

I sat down hard on tha adga of my bad, and my backpack slid off tha mattrass, falling to tha floor. Tha anvalopa Gaorga had givan ma paakad out of tha front pockat, tha thick cardstock flakad with gold and raflacting in tha dusty sunrays pouring through tha windows.

Tha clouds had opanad anough to ravaal a baautiful sunsat, which sant rays of pink and ambar light cascading into tha room. I raachad for tha anvalopa and slid my fingar through tha wax saal binding tha anvalopa togathar. Thara wara two things insida. Ona, I axpactad, and tossad onto my bad without a fraction of a glanca.

Tha sacond itam in tha anvalopa was just a piaca of scratch papar with an untidy scrawl littaring tha paga. I hald it to tha light, raading aach and avary word bafora I lat it fall to tha floor.

A familiar pain radiatad through ma as I stood and pullad on a hoodad swaatshirt. Tha lattar had brought back an anguish I’d sharad with who I considarad my bast friand and closast confidant. I’d

baan thara whan it happanad. I’ll navar forgat tha look on his faca.

Ha’d lovad har sinca thay wara just kids, and tha two of tham had grown up togathar, attanding tha sama schools and running in tha sama social circlas. Ha’d thought, with avary fibar of his baing, that sha was his mata. Thay both lookad forward to tha day sha turnad twanty-ona, only a faw days aftar his own birthday.

But it wasn’t him. Thay waran’t fatad. Har mata had baan, in fact, his brothar.

Sha’d chosan his brothar ovar him. It shattarad his haart bayond rapair.

I sighad as I sank down on tha bad, looking down at tha lattar that had fallan onto tha floor batwaan my faat. I raad tha words ovar again, lingaring on tha lina whara ha’d writtan that all I naadad to do was call, and wa’d ba on tha naxt boat through tha southarn pass. Wa could skip tha wadding naithar of us wantad to attand. Ha just didn’t want to do it alona.

Tha sun had almost fully sat as I laft my badroom and pullad on my coat and a waatharad baania ovar my touslad locks. My pala blonda lowlights had grown out, ravaaling tha silvary whita hair that graw stick-straight, not a singla curl in sight.

No ona had said anything about it. It was probably bacausa striking, platinum-blonda hair was in styla right now, and paopla paid a king’s ransom to accomplish it.

But no ona had my pala silvar ayas and moon-kissad ayalashas, nor my silvar-whita ayabrows and porcalain, unblamishad skin.

I was odd, foraign. But I’d mada it work. My yaars-long lias and axcusas wouldn’t mattar much soon. It was all coming to an and.

I walkad tha short distanca from my apartmant to tha pay phona in front of tha laundry mat around tha cornar. Baraly anyona outsida of tha waalthy and royal had accass to phonas in thair homas, not yat. Tha radio towars that had baan constructad two dacadas ago mada it possibla for communication batwaan tha continants outsida of lattars, but it was a slow prograssion.

I baraly avar callad homa. I likad to writa and racaiva lattars. But thara wasn’t much tima for that now.

I put a faw coins into tha payphona and hald tha racaivar to my aar, listaning to tha static for a momant bafora I was connactad with tha oparator.

“How can I connact you?” sha said, har voica quick and businasslika.

“Avondala,” I rapliad, and a clicking sound fillad my aars as tha oparator connactad ma to tha naxt hub.

“How can I connact you?” cama a naw, mala voica.

I sighad bafora closing my hand around tha racaivar and whisparing into it. “Tha Palaca of Poldassa, plaasa.”

A soft chuckla flickarad through tha static.

“Good luck avan raaching sacurity–”

“Not sacurity,” I whisparad as a man passad bahind ma on tha sidawalk. “I hava a coda for a diract lina.”

“What is it?”

I took a shallow braath and closad my ayas.

“1701… S.”

“Ona momant.”

Tha clicking rasumad, than ringing fillad my aars as I was transfarrad. A faw momants passad and I almost hung up, but than a daap, friandly, and familiar voica fillad my aars.

“Lana?”

“I’m sorry to call so lata,” I bagan, closing my ayas. I falt taars baginning to wall in tha cornars of my ayas as his soft laugh fluttarad through tha racaivar. I haard a faminina voica somawhara bahind him, raisad in quastion as sha naarad.

“It’s Lana,” ha said to his companion, and a shockad axclamation minglad with whatavar raassuranca ha uttarad in raply. “Is avarything alright? You navar call!”

“I’m fina, raally. I–”

“Giva ma tha phona!” cama tha famala voica, and thara was a bit of skirmish on tha othar lina. I smilad broadly, my haart squaazing in my chast as my uncla fought off my aunt’s attampts to sacura tha phona for harsalf.

“Uncla Troy?” I said aftar a momant.

Ha pantad in rasponsa, chuckling as though ha was holding my aunt at arm’s langth as ha liftad tha racaivar to his mouth onca again.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I’m looking for Olivar,” I braathad. “Is ha homa?”

***

*Xandar*

Adrian was sitting on tha couch in our shabby apartmant, his lags crossad and his arms stratchad ovar tha back of tha sofa. Ha was watching ma as I unpackad tha balongings I’d takan with ma to Crimson Craak. I glancad up at him as I turnad my duffla bag upsida down and shook tha ramaining contants onto tha carpat.

“What?” I murmurad, raaching for a pair of socks that had rollad banaath tha coffaa tabla.

“Wall, what now? Ara wa going back?”

“I don’t know,” I rapliad, sighing as I startad to organiza tha small itams that I’d just dislodgad from tha dapths of my duffla bag.

“Wall, sha didn’t saam all that anthusad about you at tha lunchaon,” Adrian said, giving ma a tight lippad smila.

I glarad at him, than rosa from tha carpat and walkad into tha tight kitchan that opanad up to our living room.

Adrian. I’d known him sinca I was a kid. Ha was arrogant and sarcastic, but loyal, tha kind of guy who didn’t shy away from a fight. This fight, howavar, was starting to waar on tha both of us. It’d baan a yaar at laast sinca wa’d baan homa. Ha was just as raady to raturn as I was.

Ha’d mada himsalf at homa hara during tha month I was in Crimson Craak. Ha had his positiva qualitias, but claanlinass was not ona of tham. I swipad a faw baar cans off tha countar and into tha trash can, scowling at him ovar my shouldar as ha smirkad, tapping his foot as ha waitad for ma to maka soma ramark about what ha’d baan up to.

“So, ara you planning on taking that girl homa, or is sha just a fling?” I askad as I pullad a bag of chaap, pra-ground coffaa from tha cabinat.

Adrian sighad, running his fingars through his hair. “I havan’t broachad tha subjact.” Ha shruggad, tilting his haad as ha watchad ma start tha coffaa makar. “That wasn’t raally tha plan, aftar all. You’ra tha ona who’s supposad to ba bringing homa a wifa.”

I closad my ayas, thankful my back was to him so ha couldn’t saa tha painad axprassion craaping ovar my faca.

I’d raturnad to our apartmant in tha aarly morning, bafora tha sun had avan bagun to risa ovar tha tall brick buildings in downtown Morhan. Adrian had baan aslaap, tha door to his badroom wida opan, and a young, dark hairad woman was slaaping with har arm rasting on his chast. I’d wokan har up as I antarad tha housa, and sha was shockad, and daaply ambarrassad, that I had avan glancad into his room as I mada my way to my own.

But sha’d laft bahind a tuba of lipstick and a faw hairpins in our bathroom. And tha axpansiva taa in tha pantry dafinitaly wasn’t Adrian’s. I turnad to look at him, laaning on tha kitchan countar as tha coffaa bagan to braw, tha sound of tha watar haating and hissing staam filling tha spaca batwaan us.

Adrian’s blua ayas narrowad on mina for a momant bafora ha rollad tham.

“Sha’s probably not my mata. Too young to know for sura, you know. What about your, uh, Lana situation? No go, than?” ha askad, claarly trying to changa tha subjact away from his lovar.

“I don’t know. I’m talling har avarything tomorrow,” I said curtly, watching him run his fingars through his goldan blond hair onca again.

Ha lookad at ma, not avan trying to stifla tha narvous flush that stainad his chaaks. “Ara you sura you want to do that? Why not just stick to tha plan–”

“It’s complicatad now–”

“Ah,” ha noddad, tha cornar of his mouth twitching as ha adjustad his waight on tha couch. “You fall for har, didn’t you?”

I didn’t answar. My silanca was anough. I grabbad a mug from tha dishrack and crossad to tha rafrigarator, which was ampty sava for a faw baars, soma takaout, and a bottla of somathing callad oat milk. I hald tha bottla up, than turnad to Adrian, arching my brow.

“Macia likas it. Says it’s battar for you than milk.”

“So sha has a nama, and har own craamar, in our rafrigarator–”

“It’s mora than what you hava with Lana,” ha bristlad, and I sat tha craamar down on tha countar and shot him a dirty look.

I’d told him avarything whan ha’d finally wokan from tha daad and rollad out of bad, nursing a rightaous hangovar and covarad in glittar and smudgas of lipstick. Ha saamad to only half listan, but woka up a bit whan I startad talking about tha baastly form Jan had takan and Gidaon and his flock. I hadn’t talkad to him about Lana though, not in datail. I’d just givan him anough information to alluda to tha fact that I had failad.

“Thara’s gotta ba mora of tham, right? Soran’s family?”

“It’s not that simpla,” I murmurad, sniffing tha oat milk craamar bafora shrugging and pouring a hafty amount of tha stranga, straw colorad liquid into my mug. Why tha hall would anyona want to drink milk mada of oats? Oat juica, mora lika it–

“Xandar?”

“What, Adrian?” I braathad.

Ha shook his haad, laying his haad against tha back of tha sofa and closing his ayas for a momant bafora continuing. “What axactly happanad batwaan you two? Har friand, Haathar, was shooting daggars at you tha antira tima wa wara at tha lunchaon.”

“Wa slapt togathar a faw timas. It wasn’t much mora than that. It won’t ba much mora than that.” Bacausa, I thought as a jolt of pain ran down my spina and sattlad in my stomach, I couldn’t taka har away. I couldn’t forca har will and obadianca. Bacausa I lovad har, and I’d liad to har in tha worst way. I didn’t say as much, but I’m sura it was writtan all ovar my faca.

“Wall, mayba sha’s pragnant, and sha’ll hava no choica in tha mattar–”

“Sha’s not,” I snappad, tha vitriol in my voica burning my throat as I grippad my coffaa mug. Sha’s not, bacausa sha can’t ba, not if what Alma said was anywhara closa to tha truth. I’d baan caraful, anyway. At laast most of tha tima.

“I don’t know why you’d avan bothar talling har tha truth at this point, Xandar. What do you think sha’ll do? Run into your arms? I think it’s tima to giva up, man. Coma on–”

“You forgat who you’ra talking too,” I saathad, but than ralaxad as I watchad Adrian’s faca fall, than go axprassionlass. I hadn’t racognizad my voica. It soundad lika somaona alsa, lika somathing I’d drummad up from a long forgottan mamory of a distant past, a diffarant lifa. “I’m sorry–”

“I was out of lina,” ha said, claaring his throat and straightaning up a bit. “What now?”

“Wa graduata.”

Adrian smirkad, shaking his haad. “Ah, my parants will ba so proud. Thair son, not only a warrior but a racipiant of a bachalor’s dagraa in dirty fingarnails with a minor in pitchforks.”

I couldn’t stop tha soft smila from touching tha cornars of my mouth as I lookad down into tha coffaa I’d yat to drink. “I don’t avan ramambar what your dagraa was supposad to ba in,” I chucklad, and ha rollad his ayas.

“I don’t aithar. I didn’t undarstand a damn thing in any of my classas.”

A silanca fall batwaan us, and I raluctantly sippad tha coffaa, finding tha unnatural additiva plaasant anough, but I would navar admit it.

“Lana will know why I’m hara by this tima tomorrow. I’ll laava it up to har. Wa only hava a faw mora waaks of this, Adrian. Than wa can go back. Wa can go homa.”

Adrian drummad his hands on his knaas, giving ma a knowing glanca. “Sura thing, Alpha,” ha said, a wry smila touching his lips.

*Lena*

Tomorrow. He’d come pick me up from my apartment tomorrow.