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.

some loungewear and disappear into the restroom to

my human modesty is too deeply ingrained to allow me

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

is also dressed, though much more formally than I

carrying me despite my

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

yet. We all gather around the breakfast table, the

serious voices, and me feeling

to understand. It’s not that they exclude me, I

of my depth.

asks, turning his blazing emerald eyes to

been going around in circles for more than half

respond to this

thoughtfully, trying to ignore

as he observes the nervous habit. Releasing my

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

I

all this? Even if he doesn’t want her anymore, it

to be gallivanting around another territory

praises,

out false compliments. “Maybe we’ve

this the wrong

their motivations, we can simply leave it

and respond without playing

they’ll be expecting some sort of

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

onto them – where it

busy and distract the pack by rustling

nods approvingly. “Good idea,

when I look over, his features are

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

this entire situation just doesn’t

of course not.” Hugo scoffs, “You don’t need to convene

is all fucked six

I mean, I feel

drying. “Therę’s something bothering me

on it.”

beginning

political scheme.”

too unimaginative to have orchestrated.”

eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and then

hand into a fist and

isn’t too unimaginative?” Sinclair growls,

faces.

while Prince Damon might have seen

the type to impulsively

Lydia wouldn’t have any reservations about

of the way.”

you saying what I think you are?” I gape,

believe my

what other explanation do we have?” Sinclair inquires, rising

forth behind the dining table. “If the Prince had lost

death, I wouldn’t question it. And if there was

make the case for rogues or vengeance for

poison? That’s a

scheme you would think the royal

the details in a way that benefitted

Damon looking sympathetic.”

it just

Sinclair confirms. “If it was planned, then why haven’t