Accidental Surrogate

Ella

Hugo, Sinclair and I are all staring at the television with wide eyes and slack jaws,

unable to process the images flitting across the screen. It seems like every time we

manage to take a few steps forward, Lydia and the Prince find a way to send us

reeling back – and this is no exception.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Hugo expresses, obviously overwhelmed. “Why would

he risk losing the pack’s sympathy by parading around another Woman so soon after

his wife’s death?”

“Trust me, Hugo – Damon isn’t the one calling the shots here. This is all Lydia.”

Sinclair states gruffly. “She’s going to force her way onto the throne one way or

another. Right now she’s playing the doting friend, but mark my words, by the time the

election ends she’ll be in his bed.”

“How bad is this?’ I ask, looking up at Sinclair’s handsome face, “Does she have

information that could hurt you?”

Sinclair Squeezes my shoulders, “She knows some secrets.” He relates, “but luckily

nothing I could imagine as a smoking gun. In fact most of what she knows would be

more harmful to the Prince things like my father’s attack, Things the public believes

were accidents but our private investigators proved malicious.” His mouth flattens into

a hard line. “The real danger is that she knows how we think, how we operate. Not to

mention that the Prince doesn’t have more than two brain cells to rub together, but

Lydia has plenty.”

“So what do we do?” I ask anxiously, my head replaying the news reel over and over

again. “My bed rest isn’t common knowledge, and they’re making it sound like my

absence from the public eye is suspicious. Do we tell everyone about my condition?

Or do we make an appearance?”

“I’m afraid making an appearance might play right into their hands. This could be

some sort of attempt to lure us out of hiding.” Hugo advises, looking very grim indeed.

In the distance I hear the front door open and close – a fact which comes as quite a

surprise, since my hearing has never been so sharp before.

Wheels roll over the door jam, and then Henry’s voice floats up toward us, “Good

Morning!”

“Henry!” I exclaim, both taken aback yet unsurprised we stayed in bed so long.

Sinclair’s father has been coming over almost every day since we agreed to be

invalids together, and he’s been an invaluable help, since I learned my true identity.

disappear into the restroom to change. I might be a

is too deeply ingrained to allow me

Sinclair does – and I’m definitely not changing in front of

is also dressed, though

downstairs together, Sinclair carrying me

more and more every day, but it isn’t enough to free me of

gather around the

serious voices, and me feeling like

begin to understand. It’s not that they

of my depth.

think, Ella?” Sinclair asks, turning his blazing

more than half an hour, debating

to

my lower lip thoughtfully, trying to ignore

the nervous habit. Releasing my swollen lip, I sigh, “Do

what happened with Lydia’s husband?I mean the Princess is

married to some other Alpha, right?” I clarify. When the men nod,

if he

her to be gallivanting around another territory with another

point.” Henry praises, maintaining a straight-faced

that he’s not giving out false compliments.

the

motivations, we

corrupt and respond without playing

be expecting some sort of countermove to

be able to spin ourselves out of the hot seat

them – where it

and distract the pack by rustling up her husband and

approvingly.

in support, but when

it. I think it’s the

entire situation just doesn’t seem

scoffs, “You don’t need to convene a

this is all fucked

I mean, I feel

me and

on it.”

you’ve been saying from the beginning that Princess Angeline’s death felt off

political scheme.” I contribute

the Prince is too unimaginative to

imperceptibly, and then

into a fist and swearing up a storm.

unimaginative?” Sinclair growls, scanning our

faces.

easily. “And while Prince Damon

a trophy, he’s not the type to impulsively

wouldn’t have any reservations about getting the Princess

of the way.”

are?” I

to believe my

other explanation do we have?”

behind the dining table. “If the

I wouldn’t question it. And if there was

could make the case for

poison?

scheme you would think

spun the details in a

Damon looking sympathetic.”

“Instead it

was planned, then why haven’t they