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

human modesty is too deeply ingrained to allow me

– and I’m definitely not changing

also dressed, though much more formally than

carrying

every day, but

around the breakfast table, the men analyzing

voices, and me feeling like

begin to understand. It’s not that

of my depth.

you think, Ella?” Sinclair asks, turning his blazing emerald eyes

circles for more than half an hour, debating

respond to this

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

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

mean the Princess is dead,

other Alpha, right?” I

this? Even if he doesn’t want her anymore, it must make him

to be gallivanting around another territory with another

Henry praises, maintaining

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

the

their motivations, we can

without playing into their

all, they’ll be expecting some sort of

able to spin ourselves out of the hot seat

– where it

and distract the pack

nods approvingly. “Good

squeezes my hand in support, but when I look

like it. I think it’s the best hope we have,

this entire situation just doesn’t seem

scoffs, “You don’t

you this is all fucked six ways

mean, I feel like I’m missing

something bothering me and I

on it.”

the beginning that Princess Angeline’s

scheme.” I

too unimaginative to have orchestrated.” Hugo

almost imperceptibly, and then he clenches them

into a fist and swearing up

isn’t too unimaginative?”

faces.

Prince Damon might have seen

he’s not the type to impulsively destroy

any reservations about getting the

of the way.”

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

to believe my

seems, what other explanation

the dining table. “If the Prince had lost

wouldn’t question it. And

you could make the case for rogues or vengeance for some

Damon. But poison? That’s

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

spun the details in a way

Damon looking sympathetic.”

“Instead it just

confirms. “If it was planned,