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Ajax’s jaw ticked with frustration as Pan strode off through the crowd. But he smiled evenly as he scanned the room. My fingers crept around his arm.

“Who’s CJ?” I whispered.

Ajax couldn’t mask his grimace. He took my arm and guided me through the crowd. Chatter sprang up behind us and I triedto quell the uncomfortable ache in my stomach. I belonged here, no matter what my mind tried to scream at me.

“He’s an old friend of Pan’s. Brings out the worst in him, but Pan won’t hear a bad word about him. I’m tired of having the same argument.”

I spotted a head of thick dark hair, and my knees buckled at the sight. Ajax chuckled under his breath, propelling me forward into Walden’s hold. I was so intent on getting to him I didn’t notice the way the crowd around Walden stiffened and made a shield behind us. My arms coiled around his neck, and I tilted my head up.

“I missed you,” I sighed, flushing as Walden gave me a perfunctory peck on the lips.

He gripped my arms and moved me away with a slight frown. He was wearing a gray, double-breasted suit with a maroon tie. Walden had swept his black hair back from his forehead, and he looked every inch a Baylark.

I had to convince myself I belonged in this room. He didn’t question it at all.

“I’m surprised you let your omega act so freely.” A clipped voice made my cheeks redden.

Walden stroked an arm down my back. “Your highness, this is Tully Hartlock, the direct descendent of Esta Hartlock and also, my omega.” His pride washed over me, not removing, but mollifying the embarrassment of his tepid welcome.

Beefy security guards formed a circle around us and blocked out Ajax.

The High Prince of Astaly was standing right next to me.

He fussed with his long white jacket. The buttons on his golden waistcoat gleamed with shimmering diamonds. A white silk cravat covered his throat. It was ostentatious, if old-fashioned.

With my champagne dress, I looked more like his date, and I crossed my arms before returning them to my side. How was one supposed to address a prince? He had a heavy brow and sweeping brass locks. Enough sun for color. He appraised me slowly, and my skin prickled.

“Ah, the one I came all this way to see. An omega of importance.”

Came all this way to see?What did he mean by that?

“I promise you, I’m the furthest thing from it,” I blurted out.

The second I opened my mouth, the high prince flinched, his eyebrows raised beyond his foppish fringe. Walden’s hand stroked my back again. This time, it was firmer. Like a warning. The churning in my stomach intensified.

“If an omega spoke to me without permission in Astaly, I’d cane them for impertinence. I know Hartlocks are the closest thing you have to royalty, and for that, I will forgive the insult.” The prince didn’t address me at all, his gaze pinned on Walden.

The blatant snub stung. My tongue lay in fallowed shock, chastised beyond words. Walden slipped an arm around my waist and clung to the dip in my hip.

“We appreciate your leniency, your highness.”

My stomach blistered as I whipped a look at Walden.Your leniency?

“This isn’t Astaly, your highness, and omegas fought hard for their rights. That’s what this gala is about, after all.” I disentangled myself from Walden.

“What Tully means is—” Walden let out a short, tense laugh, but I cut him off.

“He heard me.”

The prince reared his head back. Some of the haughtiness faded and the corner of his lip kicked up. The surrounding security bristled with silent tension until the prince laughed.

“You must give me time to adjust. I am unused to being challenged by a mere omega.”

Mere omega?

I swallowed hard at the sharp insight into his world. How would the prince react if he knew I’d been saving money via sex work to sneak into his country? What world would I have been sucked into if I’d made the leap?

“What of your own omega, your highness?” Walden asked, trying to move past my rudeness.