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.

and disappear into the restroom to change. I might

my human modesty is too deeply ingrained to allow me to strut

definitely not changing in front of

Sinclair is also dressed, though

go downstairs together, Sinclair carrying me despite my protests.

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

around the

voices, and me feeling like an outsider

matters I can’t begin to understand. It’s not that they exclude me, I

of my depth.

asks, turning his

going around in circles for more than half an hour,

to

on my lower lip thoughtfully, trying to ignore the flash of emotion in

observes the nervous habit. Releasing my swollen lip, I sigh,

happened with Lydia’s husband?I mean the

Alpha, right?” I clarify. When the men

he in all this? Even if he doesn’t

her to be gallivanting around another territory

Henry praises, maintaining a straight-faced

me that he’s not giving out false compliments. “Maybe we’ve

the wrong

their motivations, we can simply leave it

without

they’ll be expecting some sort of

but we might be able to spin ourselves out of the hot

onto them – where

pack

approvingly. “Good

my hand in support, but when I

it. I think it’s the best

entire situation

Hugo scoffs, “You don’t need to

tell you this is all fucked six

feel like I’m

drying. “Therę’s something bothering me and I just

on it.”

beginning that Princess Angeline’s death felt

scheme.”

is too

imperceptibly, and

hand into a fist and swearing up

unimaginative?” Sinclair growls, scanning

faces.

supplies easily. “And while Prince Damon might have seen his

than a trophy, he’s not the type to impulsively destroy one

have any

of the way.”

saying what I think you are?” I

believe

it seems, what other explanation do we

behind the dining table.

beat her to death, I wouldn’t question it. And if

you could make the case

poison? That’s a

scheme you would

death and spun the details in

Damon looking sympathetic.”

“Instead it just

planned,