As if she knew just what to do, the Beta rocked her gently—like the wind that had blown Brenya’s body back and forth against the Dome after she had fallen. Tangled in those ropes, no matter the pain or the hopelessness of that situation, there had been white flowers and fresh air, and that gentle sway in the breeze.
All of it had smelled sweet.
Annette smelled sweet, and it wasn’t just the poison of Beta pharmaceuticals.
A few more seconds in her arms and Brenya had her answer. “Yes, Annette. It is good to see you.”
At that, the Beta began to gently pull away, setting her attention to the little marks of blood blooming on the lace circling Brenya’s neck. “Estrous went well?”
“No.” It could not have gone more wrong or felt more degrading. No part of Brenya was capable of comprehending how anyone would desire such a thing. “It was awful. Jacques did things. I’m… ashamed.”
With a gentle squeeze of Brenya’s hand, Annette said, “You tried to escape, and you were punished. It was the Commodore’s duty to correct you. The Beta women of Central know it is best to accept Alpha authority. I have told you this, Brenya. We all must work within the confines of our station and situation. Running will never solve any problem, it only creates more. Promise me you won’t do it again.”
“There is nowhere to go, Annette. I know that now.”
How horrible it was to admit that certainty aloud. Even if Ambassador Havel had lied about the state of Thólos, to leave would start a war that Jacques had stated he could not win. An Alpha, an arrogant, haughty, egotistical Alpha with all the power, had admitted to her that he would lose and her people would suffer. Feeling his consciousness intermeshed with hers, she knew the male had not lied.
“Not every situation will be easy to swallow. The role of wife is the most unrewarding and perilous assignment under the Dome. We must find our joy in motherhood.”
“Swallow?” A particularly odd choice of words, considering.
Annette had swallowed Beta rations without question. She had been cast aside and reduced to a simple cot tucked mostly out of sight in her child’s light-drenched nursery. The Beta’s sleeping place pointedly unadorned, with nothing but a thin blanket, a small pillow—half hidden behind a screen. A sad corner that paled in comparison to the grandeur of the glittering nursery with its cheerful ivory walls and clean, perfect furnishings.
Yet, which of them was more miserable?
Not the drugged Beta who had accepted the poison and even told Brenya not to interfere when she’d spoken up before the Alphas in power.
Brenya was hanging on by a thread, and Annette was… surviving.
In the confines of her station and new situation.
“You’re at a disadvantage, Brenya. I had an entire lifetime of training to assume the role of wife.” The Beta untangled herself from Brenya’s arms, gesturing for her guest to take a seat at the table. “And while the training was rigorous, I had a loving mother to guide me. You were farmed and indoctrinated to work without question. Your duty was folded into you in an environment designed and administered almost without flaw. I doubt you even realize you are now the most powerful female in Bernard Dome.”
Brenya moved toward the chair Annette had prepared for her. Wincing at the soft pillow when there would be no comfortable position, considering the part of her body Jacques had just invaded, she fought her skirts so her legs were not strangled.
“Don’t let them see that you are in pain. Everyone will take note.” With perfectly manicured nails on soft hands that had never seen hard labor, Annette lifted a silver teapot. Steaming mahogany-colored liquid filled each cup, the movement of the hostess practiced, effortless, and… lacking her stolen luster. “Have your tailors slit your skirts until you learn how to properly arrange them. And smile. You don’t have to mean it.”
Stiff, Brenya offered Annette the very smile the sweet Beta had taught Brenya only weeks before. It faded as quickly as it came, an unsustainable lie.
Their eyes met as Annette passed her the saucer and cup, their gazes held. On a blink, Annette spilled a single tear. One she ignored as if it had never happened. And then she smiled, her dazzling, practiced smile… and it almost felt real.
“Your tea will get cold, Brenya.”
So the Omega sipped, finding the hot beverage overly sweet.
“You taste honey.” Annette took a delicate draw from her cup. “An extra spoonful should always be added for when the Alphas are rough.”
Rough was not near enough to describe what Centrist Alphas were.
Brenya took another, deeper swallow.
“This blend was specially prepared to soothe your aches and lighten your spirits. Rosehip, turmeric, ginger... my mother’s recipe. She made it for me the morning after my wedding night.”