Claimed by the Twin Alphas

The roast pig had lost an ear, somebody had spilled gravy on the mill's best linen, and I was sitting seventeen chairs away from the man I was supposed to marry. Not that I'd counted. Seventeen chairs, four councilmen, two empty wine bottles, and one elderly aunt who'd been telling me for twenty minutes that girls who couldn't shift should be grateful for whatever arrangements their families made. "Pass the salt, dear." I passed it. "Not that one. The little dish." I passed that too. My name was Tessa Rooker. I was twenty-one, daughter of Millbrook's millwright, and tonight was my betrothal feast. Apparently, I'd been invited as kitchen staff. Ninety people crowded the long tables in the pack hall, eating pork and river trout beneath candles made from wax that smelled faintly of Dunmore mud. Hot fat hung in the air. Somebody near the head table wore enough rose perfume to preserve a corpse. I turned my mother's ring around my finger. Silver, narrow, with a tiny blue stone that had been chipped on one corner since I was eleven. Mum had caught it against the mill's iron gate while dragging me out of the way of a runaway timber cart. She'd saved my foot and ruined her ring. A fair trade, she'd said. Landon Sorn sat beside his father beneath the Millbrook banner, looking freshly pressed and mildly uncomfortable. He'd been uncomfortable since the soup. I'd assumed it was the fish bones. "You're twisting that thing again," Aunt Meriel said. "It's attached to my hand. Difficult to misplace." "You ought to smile." "I've been smiling since six." "Well, try looking pleased." I showed her my teeth. She turned back to her potatoes. Across the room, Dessa Pell laughed at something Landon said. My stepsister had a laugh that made people lean closer. She was twenty, wore pale green silk, and had managed to keep both sleeves clean through three courses. I'd once watched her persuade a tax collector to apologize for collecting taxes. I couldn't even persuade the laundry supervisor to replace a cracked washboard. Landon touched his napkin. Then he stood. The servants stopped carrying the next course. That was the first odd thing. Usually, when an Alpha's heir stood during dinner, somebody kept pouring wine until he actually started talking. Tonight, the wine stopped too. "Friends," Landon began, "thank you for gathering to celebrate what we believed would be a fortunate union." Believed. I stopped turning my ring. Beside him, Alpha Gregor Sorn folded his hands over his stomach. He'd been drinking watered wine all evening, which meant the pack accounts were worse than usual. "As you know, the council has been reviewing our obligations, particularly our commitments along the Dunmore." A chair creaked. Nobody whispered. Landon cleared his throat. "Following considerable discussion, my father and I have agreed that the original betrothal arrangement must be reconsidered." Aunt Meriel put down her fork. Carefully. As though she'd been waiting for her cue. I looked along the table. The councilmen weren't surprised. The merchants weren't surprised. Even old Master Vale, who'd slept through the fish course, had opened his eyes. Dessa was looking at her plate. Her hands rested neatly beside it. No ring. Of course. Landon continued, "Tessa has served this household with great loyalty, and I hope she'll understand that this decision reflects no deficiency in her character." That was generous. He'd only found deficiencies in everything else. "The needs of Millbrook must come before personal preferences. Thornmoor's creditors have been patient, but our position requires a stronger alliance." The Dunmore had flooded twice that spring. Three timber barges had gone missing, the mill's east wheel needed replacing, and Gregor had borrowed against next year's paper shipments. Everybody knew. Nobody had mentioned it to me while they were pinning my hair. "Therefore," Landon said, finally glancing in my direction, "with the council's consent, the betrothal between Tessa Rooker and myself is dissolved." Someone coughed. He looked away. "And a new arrangement has been approved between myself and Dessa Pell." There it was. Dessa lowered her lashes. Aunt Meriel reached for her wine. I looked at the roast pig. It had lost the other ear. "Of course," Landon added, "we hope Tessa will remain a valued member of our household." "Doing what?" I asked. My voice carried farther than I'd intended. Landon blinked. "Well, your current duties would naturally—" "Right." I stood. The chair scraped against the floor, catching on the same uneven flagstone that had caught my shoe when I'd carried the soup in earlier. Gregor raised one hand. "Miss Rooker. There's a formal matter to settle." Naturally. A servant brought forward the betrothal chest, a little oak box with brass corners. I'd polished those corners myself that morning. The servant placed it before Gregor. "Under the original agreement," Gregor said, "the maternal ring was entered as the bride's pledge." "My mother's ring," I said. "Yes. And since the pledge was made to the Sorn household, it remains with the household until the revised ceremony." I stared at him. "That wasn't in the agreement." Gregor's jaw moved once. "The council has clarified the provision." "How convenient." "Tessa," Landon said softly, "please don't make this more difficult." I looked at him. His left cuff was damp. He'd knocked over his water earlier, and nobody had dared mention it. He could stand before ninety people and hand me over to a different life, but he couldn't ask a servant for a dry sleeve. "May we have the ring?" Gregor asked. I pressed my thumb against the chipped stone. For a moment, I couldn't move it. Then I pulled. The silver caught at my knuckle. I twisted harder, felt skin scrape, and slipped it free. I placed it in the chest. Not in Gregor's hand. Dessa rose. She came around the table, silk brushing the chairs, and stopped beside the box. She'd already taken off the pearl ring she usually wore on her right hand. That finger waited. Landon picked up my mother's ring. He didn't look at me as he slid it onto Dessa's hand. It fit. I hated that most. Dessa touched my wrist. Her fingers were cool, her nails shaped into little pink almonds. "I'll keep it safe, sister." I looked at the stone, at the chip facing inward against her palm. "Try not to lose the finger." Her smile slipped. Only a little. But I saw it. So did Landon. "Tessa—" "Enjoy the pork." I walked away before anyone could decide whether I needed permission. At the doors, young Nella hurried after me with a wool cloak. "Miss Tess, it's going to pour. Here, I'll—" "No, thank you." "But you'll freeze." "Probably. Keep it for someone who belongs here." Nella's mouth tightened. She'd been working since dawn, and there was a fresh burn across her thumb from the kitchen range. I touched her uninjured hand. "Put butter on that before bed." Then I went outside. The wind hit my bare arms. Rain had started in fat, cold drops, darkening the dirt road between the hall and the mill cottages. Wet wool smelled from the washing lines. Down below, the mill race roared against its sluice gates. Behind me, someone opened the hall doors. Music spilled out. The wind tore it apart. I took the short path toward the bridge. Father would be home, probably asleep in his chair with his boots still on. I'd have to wake him, tell him about the ring, and find something to wrap around my scraped finger. The bridge was quicker than the upper road. Usually. Tonight, Dunmore water washed across the planks. I stepped onto the first board. It shifted beneath my shoe. "Come on," I muttered. Halfway across, the railing cracked. I grabbed for it. The wood tore loose. Then the boards dropped beneath my feet. My stomach slammed upward. My fingers caught nothing. The river struck my back. Cold punched the air from my lungs, and black water closed over my head. The feast lights vanished.