Page 19 of First (After the End #1)

THE GARDEN

Sofia

That afternoon brings a partial Low, one not predicted by the tide watchers.

It’s something most people in the stronghold barely notice, as the water falls only enough to free the last five or six floors of the stronghold, and it probably won’t last longer than ten hours.

Still, it’s a perfect opportunity for the engineers to take care of some repairs that need to be tackled from the outside.

Gabriel is gone, and from an overheard conversation between Ivar and Bastian, I gather that he’s busy with important and probably supersecret meetings.

Nearly all the soldiers are focusing on the maintenance work.

That leaves me free to roam the military area, which is in the southern wing of the third level from the top.

A Beta guard trails after me, keeping an eye on me from a few feet away.

I wonder whether she’s here for my safety, to prevent my escape, or to protect others in case I become deranged, but there are so few people wandering around the corridors, the second option must be the correct one.

It’s for the best because I am developing the mother of all headaches.

It must have to do with this new environment, the constant stimulation, the stressful last few days.

The military wing is large, and I love studying its severe architecture and cataloguing the myriad of ways in which it differs from House Larsen’s lavishness.

Yet here the smells feel almost too intense.

The other Omegas I pass are cloying. The Alphas, aggressive and overbearing.

Paradoxically, the only place where I’m at peace is Gabriel’s room, where his scent dominates and rises above any other.

But when I peek in there, Alex is stretched on a sunbeam.

Given the heft of her glare, I decide to find another location to spend the afternoon.

My guard recommends a beautiful artificial garden.

It’s at the corner of the wing, in an area that can be accessed by everyone in the stronghold.

It has more windows than I can count, and I cannot stop thinking that if such a place belonged to Lord Larsen, he would have appropriated it and restricted the access to himself and his family.

Clearly, Gabriel believes in communal spaces and wants everyone to experience real sunlight.

The kind of principles you develop when you weren’t raised on the fiftieth floor, I guess.

I spend hours here. I circle the beautiful plants that look like pictures in the old books Dad used to read to me, studying the shapes of the leaves, marveling at the brightness of the flowers.

I am, for the most part, on my own, which should be freeing but has me feeling oddly bereft, as though I have misplaced a limb or something equally necessary.

Toward the end of the afternoon, though, a redheaded child who cannot be older than four comes barreling down one of the pathways, then stops right in front of me with a quizzical expression.

As much as I adore children, I don’t have much experience with them.

I’ve treated some, mostly kids of military members, but when their parents take them to me, it’s usually for urgent medical issues, and they tend to be scared out of their minds.

To put them at ease, I’ve learned a single trick that never fails to dazzle: pulling an object from behind their ear.

In this case, I choose a flower.

The trick must delight healthy children as much as the sick because the girl gasps, squees, and says something that sounds like her version of “again!” That’s when a young Alpha emerges from behind a leafy bush. He’s tall and handsome, with auburn hair and brown eyes.

And he says in a friendly tone, “I’m starting to wonder if maybe you’re not the monster they made you out to be.” Ivar’s scent is all over him. Even from a few dozen feet away, I can easily pick it up.

I rise to my feet as the man exchanges a nod with my guard, then comes closer.

“This is Marguerite,” he tells me, picking up the child. She must be his and Ivar’s daughter.

Which makes her Gabriel’s niece, I think to myself—for some reason, with an odd pang in my chest.

“And I am Andreas.”

I force out a smile. “Sofia.”

“Oh, I know. Martia and I work together, and she’s been complaining about you for the past two days.

And yet, no one will tell me what the deal is between you and the general,” he says, with something I can only describe as a pout.

“It’s rough, being surrounded by Alphas. They’re not good at sharing gossip.”

“Oh. Well, my deepest sympathies.”

“No offense, healer, but you can shove your sympathies up your nose. There’s something else I want from you.”

“And what would that be?”

He grins. “Information.”

He leads me to a little play area right behind a giant fern, where we sit side by side on a stone bench and watch Marguerite build castles in a rocky sandbox. “So, you’re Lennart’s mate?”

“You know him?” I ask, surprised.

“A bit. I was born and raised in House Niemi, though not in the main branch of the family. But Lennart and I are both third sons around the same age. There was some overlap.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sure Ivar has already explained the gist of what’s going on.”

“Only the bare bones. Lord Larsen, cold Omega, Right of the First Night. That’s about it.

” He sighs. “Ivar’s entire life consists of gathering exploitable information about people and events and circumstances.

When he’s home with me and Marguerite, he likes to relax and never shares any juicy stuff.

Mostly, we talk about boring property disputes that ended two hundred years ago. ”

“Who doesn’t like a good land registry?” I ask dryly.

“Who, indeed. So, how did you meet Lennart?”

“We were both training as healers.” It feels so long ago. “And then we became friends.”

“Love at first sight?”

“Not really. He liked me for longer than I did him. He was nice, but I didn’t really think of him like that.

When I ended up being cold, though, he told me that he didn’t care.

That I was still perfect to him.” I swallow.

It’s strange, sharing such intimate details with someone I just met.

But my head feels stuffed with cotton, and I might be running a fever, and there is something soothing about putting my thoughts in order to lay them out for another person.

“It was a tough time. I couldn’t figure out my body.

I felt like I was disappointing everyone around me.

But Lennart was so accepting. When he asked me to be his mate, I accepted. ”

“Was that recently?”

“No, not really. Years ago.” I feel myself flush. “I pushed back the mating for a while. I was just very busy with work, and then my father was sick, and after…”

“Not eager?” Andreas asks.

I glance away, a mix of guilt and defensiveness churning through my stomach. “It’s not so simple.”

“I’m sure it isn’t. And what about you and Gabriel? How did that start?”

“How did what start?”

His smile is amused. “Your relationship.”

“There is no relationship.”

“He called the Right of the First Night for the first time in his life. To have you.”

“I… Yes, he did. But it’s exclusively to get back at Lord Larsen. It has nothing to do with me.” Andreas scans my face like it’s a book written in the tiniest font. Ahead of us, Marguerite is still piling rocks, and I allow myself to ask simply out of curiosity, “Is there anyone else?”

“Excuse me?”

“Gabriel. Has he…ever thought about mating? Or been close?”

“No. God, no.” He laughs. “Can’t you tell? Does he look like the kind of Alpha who has an Omega behind him? Someone who loves him?”

I have to mull it over for a minute. “Not really, no.” Without a doubt, Gabriel is very skilled at taking care of the stronghold.

But maybe he needs someone who’ll take care of him—and someone to take care of who’ll give back in a more tangible and immediate fashion than a massive stone structure that hosts tens of thousands of people.

Someone who won’t let him wake up earlier and earlier.

Someone who’ll decorate his rooms with just a splash of color.

Someone for him to talk to about his day.

Someone willing to massage the stiffness of his muscles after a sparring session. Someone able to make him laugh—

Fuck. Where are these thoughts coming from?

I know where. It’s what he told me earlier. He looked me in the eye and listed every single thing I’ve ever wanted, like I’m more transparent to him than limpid water. And now my brain is twisting itself into thinking that it knows his needs and desires.

I really must be ill.

“Can I tell you something?” Andreas asks softly. “As an Alpha?”

I nod slowly.

“You don’t smell cold. In fact, you smell”—he sniffs deeply—“well, for the most part, you smell like Gabriel decided to personally coat you in his scent. But also healthy. Very healthy, if you get my meaning.”

I swallow, then massage my temples, where the throbbing is steadily intensifying.

“You see how this is odd, right?” Andreas asks.

I hesitate. Watch the thin line of his lips. Nod, because things are changing. My body. My mind. What I want and what I need. I don’t know how or why, but I’m no longer the person I was twenty-four hours ago.

And my head is about to fucking explode.

“No offense,” I say gently, “but I think this might be a conversation I should be having with Gabriel.” And with Lennart, I try to force myself to add. But the name simply won’t come out of my lips.

“No offense taken, Sofia.” His hand lifts to pat my back, but instantly falls back at his side, as if he remembered himself. As if he realized that I belong to another Alpha, and that it would be impolite for him to touch me. “I think so, too.”