“I prefer to stand.”
Of course she did.
Beth resisted the urge drag a chair close to her out of defiance. Instead, she stood across from her awkwardly, trying to match her posture and failing spectacularly. Gael’s mother didn’t slouch. She didn’t perch. She stood like she was created from the concept of perfection and was absolutely confident that the universe would never deny her anything.
“So,” Beth said finally, because silence was starting to feel like a punishment. “If you came for Gael, he’s back in Olympia.”
“I know where my son is. I came to see what he thinks he’s bound himself to.”
Beth blinked. “I—excuse me?”
The intake of air was disdainful at best. “He came home to tell me he found his fated mate. It’s clearly a misunderstanding.”
“I’m pretty sure it isn’t. We both feel it pretty strongly.”
She scoffed. “Spare me. It simply is unheard that an elf, one of Gael’s bloodline, no less, could stoop so low as to bond with a human. Awaitress.”
At some point, she would think about what was with everyone thinking waitressing was a lowly job, but right now, there were bigger things to address. She drew in a long breath, and got ready for the blow. “Well, ma’am, fate’s a bitch.”
Could elves have a heart attack or a stroke from sheer offense? Because if so, Beth was pretty sure she was about togive elf cardiology a case study. The woman’s spine straightened even more. An impressive feat, considering she already carried herself like a queen, judge, and executioner all rolled into one. Her eyes narrowed, as if Beth’s words had vandalized her family crest. Which she probably had. “I will not allow that language in my presence.”
“You can leave, then.”
There it was. A crack in the marble statue. Gael’s mother blinked. Once. Slowly. As if recalibrating her entire worldview. “Gael is third in line. He has a duty to the High Lord and Lady and to his people. Part of the duty is to assure the bloodline remains strong.”
Beth crossed her arms, weight shifting to one hip. “And you think I’m going to water it down.”
“Iknowyou will,” the elf said coolly, like she was commenting on poor wine pairings. “I have lived long enough to see unions fracture entire houses. The realm requires stability. Legacy. And what do humans know of it, child? Your kind is young and foolish.”
“And yours is stale and might be obsolete,”Beth said, her voice steady and scalding. “You can hate it all you want, but Iamwhat Gael wants, and that’s all I care about. Not your precious realm, not your politics. Him. I care abouthim.” She walked to the door, opened it with deliberate calm, and stepped aside.“I’m asking you to leave now.”
His mother blinked, stunned. No one in centuries had dared dismiss her, possibly. Then, dignity clutched tighter than her pearls, she swept out without a word.
The door shut behind her and Beth stood there for a beat, hand still on the doorknob, heart pounding like she’d just outrun a bear. Or a High Elven matriarch, which might’ve been worse. Her breath came shallow, tight in her chest, but she didn’t move.
She needed to hold on to something, or she’d start shaking. Or crying. Or throwing things. Possibly all three.
The thing was, she hadn’t lied. Not once. Every word had been the truth, ripped raw from the certainty she’d only just come to terms with. She did love Gael more than anything. She did want a future with him. And she’d just faced down the dragon guarding his world and refused to burn.
Beth leaned her forehead against the door and closed her eyes. A small laugh broke out of her, sharp and a little stunned. Then she turned around, spine straightening. If Gael’s mother wanted a war, she’d picked the wrong girl to underestimate.
She grabbed her phone, thumb hovering over Ann’s contact, ready to call and scream and sob. Then she stopped.
Truths spun in her mind like storm debris.
Truth: she loved Gael. Deeply, stupidly, irrevocably. Nothing and no one would change that.
Truth: his mother was a first-class bitch. If Beth’s father were still around, the two of them would probably be engaged in a passive-aggressive power struggle over brunch.
Truth: she knew jack-all about Gael’s life as a functioning, duty-bound member of the Elven High Family. And if she really wanted to build a future with him, which she did, she needed to get her act together. Fast. Because if she was going to be part of that glittering, backstabbing, legacy-obsessed mess, then dammit, she was going to be an asset. Not a liability. Not a fragile secret. Not something to be protected or hidden away.
So she composed a text:Emergency. I’m coming over.Sent. Shoes on. Jacket too. She was out the door before she could second-guess herself.
When Elara opened the door, her eyes went wide, pupils flaring slightly, probably reacting to whatever storm of emotion Beth was broadcasting. “Okay,” she said, stepping back automatically. “Did you already kill someone and we need tomake a body disappear, or do I still have time to talk you out of murder?”
“Gael’s mother came for a visit.”
Elara closed her eyes. Just for a second. Then she exhaled, turned on her heel, and waved Beth in like this was her hundredth emergency response.
