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.

human modesty is too deeply ingrained to allow me to

definitely

dressed, though much more formally than I

Sinclair carrying me despite

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

gather around the breakfast

serious voices, and

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

of my depth.

do you think, Ella?” Sinclair asks, turning

going around in circles for more than half an hour, debating

to

on my lower lip thoughtfully, trying

habit. Releasing

Lydia’s husband?I mean the

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

he doesn’t want her

her to be gallivanting around

praises, maintaining a straight-faced expression

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

this the wrong

understand their motivations, we can

and respond without playing

expecting some sort of countermove to challenge

ourselves out of

them – where it

distract the pack by rustling

nods approvingly.

in support, but when

don’t like it. I think it’s the best hope we have, but

this entire situation just doesn’t

scoffs, “You don’t need to convene

you this is

feel like I’m missing

something bothering me and I

on it.”

the beginning that Princess Angeline’s death felt off

political scheme.” I

Prince is too unimaginative

eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and then he

a fist and

know who isn’t too unimaginative?” Sinclair

faces.

Prince Damon might have seen

he’s not the type to impulsively destroy one of

Lydia wouldn’t have any reservations about getting the

of the way.”

saying what I think you are?” I gape, both certain I’ve understood

to believe

what other explanation do we

feet and pacing back and forth behind the dining table. “If the Prince had

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

could make the case for rogues or vengeance for some

by Damon. But poison?

if it was a political scheme you would think the royal family would

death and spun the details in a

Damon looking sympathetic.”

it just

“If it was planned, then why haven’t they jumped on