SEVEN WEEKS

She smelled entirely human. The realization kept circling as I paced the hallway. It made no sense.

"Dashiell."

I paused, lifting my head. My mother stood in the arched doorway of the east drawing room. 

"You've been out here for a while," she stated. "Should I be concerned?"

"No."

A faint smile touched her lips as she pushed the door wider. "Come inside."

The room beyond was one of the few sanctuary spaces in the estate my mother had fiercely guarded from becoming an office or a museum display. Father sat at the far end of a long sofa, his sunglasses low on his nose, Ottilie was sprawled sideways across a wingback armchair.

She looked up. "Ah. The golden prince graces us with his presence."

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"We were beginning to entertain offers," she deadpanned.

Father removed his glasses. "You're late."

Ottilie reached into a crystal bowl beside her, plucking out a dark grape. "Leave him alone, Father. He's having an existential crisis."

I shot her a glare. 

She popped the grape into her mouth with a grin. "I've decided."

"Thank you for the amateur diagnosis."

"You're entirely welcome."

Mother crossed the room and handed me a cup of black coffee without asking whether I wanted one. I took it, taking a slow sip.

He set his tablet onto the glass table. "We need to finalize the Varenne arrangements."

I took a seat in the armchair opposite him. Ottilie groaned dramatically, resting her forehead against the back of her chair. "Could we perhaps phrase my brother's impending marriage slightly less like a corporate acquisition?"

He offered her a cold, level stare. "No. The Varenne delegation wants the formal announcement before the autumn Council session."

"Seven weeks," I responded quietly.

"You spoke to their council?"

"I reviewed the updated calendar this morning."

"Seven," Father confirmed, leaning back. "Possibly six if House Bellacourt attempts to move their press briefing early."

Ottilie sat up straight, her teasing demeanor instantly vanishing. "Six weeks? That's ridiculous."

"You knew this timeline was approaching," I retorted.

"I knew it was approaching in the vague, existential sense that we will all eventually grow old and die," she countered sharply.

"Comforting."

"I'm your sister. It's my duty to keep you grounded."

Mother ignored our back-and-forth entirely. "Evadne has agreed to seven weeks."

Something about the phrasing caught my attention. I set my coffee cup down with a faint clink. "Agreed?"

"Yes."

"And her father?"

"Her father would announce it to the news networks before dinner if he thought the stock markets could absorb the volatility," Father grunted, picking his glasses back up before setting them down again. "I want the primary energy infrastructure agreement signed before the engagement becomes public knowledge. Otherwise, House Asterholt will frame our capital backing as a desperate marriage bribe."

"They will spin it that way regardless," I observed rationally.

"Naturally," Mother agreed. "But there is no reason to hand them signed documentation to help their campaign."

Ottilie popped another grape into her mouth. "I'm beginning to see why no one writes romantic poetry about the Great Houses."

Mother gave her a dry look. "Scholars have written a great deal of poetry about this family."

"Was any of it remotely good?"

"No."

"Precisely my point."

The ghost of a smirk twitched at the corner of Father's mouth, gone as fast as it appeared. I took another sip of coffee. 

"Dashiell."

I met her eyes. "Yes?"

"This is the moment in the conversation where you contribute."

"About what?"

 "About marrying Evadne Varenne."

"I thought we established the necessity of that union three years ago," I replied evenly.

"Your father and I established that the match was politically advantageous three years ago."

"You and Evadne indicated you were open to the arrangement," Father corrected smoothly.

"There is a profound difference," Mother added.

I looked between the two formidable Alphas who ruled this House. "What exactly would you like me to say?"

"Do you want to marry her, Dashiell?"

 Want. A sentimental word humans loved because it made brutal, complicated realities sound simple. I considered the question anyway. Evadne Varenne was brilliant, gorgeous, and supremely controlled without being dull. We had grown up in the same aristocratic circles and had long ago bypassed the awkwardness of pretending our families hadn't arranged our lives over dinner tables. I trusted her implicitly. In our world, trust was a far rarer commodity than love.

"Yes," I answered. "I have no objections to marrying her. I respect Evadne, I trust her, we understand precisely what is required of us, and our combined Houses will dominate the Concordat Council for years."

Ottilie groaned, leaning her head back against her chair while Mother closed her eyes for a brief beat. Father rubbed a hand over his jaw, hiding a faint trace of amusement horribly.

"What?" I demanded, my tone dropping an octave.

She opened her eyes. "I asked whether you want to build a life with a woman, Dashiell, not whether you approve of an institutional merger."

"The merger is exceptional."

Ottilie suddenly flicked a grape straight at my head. My hand snapped up, catching it effortlessly an inch from my eye. I turned a glare toward her. "Do not throw food."

"Then stop talking like an investor prospectus!" she snapped back.

I set the grape onto the glass table. "I like Evadne Mother. I enjoy her company. She is one of the very few people alive I would trust with House intelligence without hesitation."

Ottilie tilted her head. "That was almost romantic."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment, Dash."

Mother's sharp expression finally softened. "And if there were no Council seats on the line or territorial expansion?"

The answer should have been instantaneous and effortless. Instead, without my permission, a sudden, vivid memory of her intoxicating scent of strawberry and fresh daisy cut straight through my wolf's defenses.

"I do not waste energy on hypothetical lives," I responded coldly. 

 "Neither did I at your age," Father spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the room.

I turned my gaze to him.

 "My marriage to your mother secured three northern territorial boundaries and permanently ended a blood feud with House Reuss that had spanned twenty-two years."

Mother offered him a dry, affectionate glance. "You formally proposed to me before any of those political negotiations were even drafted."

"I was securing my interests," he replied smoothly.

"You were embarrassingly persistent. You sent eleven private couriers to my family estate."

"I received eleven replies."

"You received nine replies," she corrected smoothly. "The other two never made it to your desk."

 "I was told they were lost in transit."

"I burned them," she said simply.

Ottilie burst into a loud laugh. Father looked genuinely, deeply offended. "You lied to me? For thirty-one years?"

"You never asked for clarification," she replied, taking a sip of her coffee. "A successful marriage survives many small deceptions."

Despite the tension coiling in my chest, a short, quiet laugh escaped my throat. That was the part outsiders never understood about the Hohenzollern dynasty. My parents loved each other Viscerally, fiercely, and completely. The political alliance had been built around their bond, not the other way around.

Which made their example entirely useless to me.

She turned back to face me. "I am not asking you to become a foolish romantic, Dashiell."

"Thank God."

"I am asking whether you are choosing Evadne because you genuinely believe you can construct a good, meaningful life together, or because you have spent years believing you never had the right to say no."

"I am well aware of my standing."

"Are you?" she countered gently.

My wolf shifted restlessly beneath my ribs. The movement brought another completely unwanted, dangerous memory of her surging to the surface that made my entire body burn.

I straightened my cuffs "This family has never given me reason to resent my duty."

 "That was always our intention," Father spoke softly.

They love me. That had never been in doubt. Neither had the fact that I was born to wear a crown I hadn't asked for. Perhaps those two realities had been intertwined for so long that trying to separate them now was an exercise in futility.

"I will marry Evadne," I reiterated leaving zero room for further debate.

 "Then seven weeks. We begin drafting the announcements tomorrow."

Ottilie instantly perked up, leaning across the table with a sly grin. "Can I design the engagement banquet menu?"

"No," all three of us said in unison.

She threw her hands up. "This family actively despises joy."

My phone vibrated sharply against my thigh. I pulled the device from my pocket, glancing at the glowing screen.

[Matthias Voss]: 3:00 PM bout. If you are late to the staging tunnel again, I will personally strip into standard gear and fence Asterholt myself.

The barest hint of a smirk touched my lips.

Mother caught it instantly. "Matthias?"

"Yes."

"Inform him that he has my full authority to carry out whatever threat he sent you."

"He will become entirely unbearable," I grinned, sliding the phone back into my pocket.

"He is already unbearable," Father muttered dryly.

I turned toward the exit. 

"Dashiell."

I paused, my hand hovering over the door handle. "Yes?"

His eyes met mine. "What actually happened on the strip this morning?"

 "Nothing I cannot handle."

Father held my gaze then gave a quiet nod. "Very well."

I turned the handle to leave.

"Dashiell." This time, it was my mother's voice. I stopped, looking back over my shoulder.

She offered me an innocent smile that sent an immediate spike of warning through my instincts. "You smell like conservation solvent."

Ottilie instantly wrinkled her nose, sniffing the air like a hound. "He actually does! Is that ethanol?"

Mother's expression remained terrifyingly placid. "Were you down in the historical archives?"

"Dr. Corvin had an artifact I wished to inspect," I answered smoothly. 

"What kind of artifact?" Ottilie pressed, her sharp eyes gleaming with curiosity.

I pulled the door open. "A mistake."

I stepped out into the corridor and closed the door firmly behind me before anyone could ask whether I meant the textile collection or the human girl cataloguing it.