“You look radiant,” Sinclair’s father beamed from his wheelchair. “How’s my grandbaby treating you?”

“Oh, he’s certainly making his presence known,” I laughed, sliding my arms into my coat sleeves. Sinclair held the garment up for me, then straightened it around my shoulders as if worried I wouldn’t be warm enough. He’d been particularly on edge tonight, and though I understood his agitation, I was beginning to tire of being treated like a china doll. “Stop fussing, Dominic, I’m fine.”

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” he grumbled. “Your blood pressure was much too high this afternoon, and you didn’t get nearly enough rest.”

“You’re the one who keeps telling me how important these events are,” I reminded him. “And I feel perfectly well.”

He muttered to himself, and Henry chuckled. “You’re fighting a losing battle, my dear. There’ll be no reasoning with him—I was the same way when his mother was pregnant and we weren’t campaigning.”

“It’s too much stress,” Sinclair agreed. “All the media and the royal family, on top of the crowds.”

“Not to mention your brother,” Henry added darkly. This was the first time I’d be encountering all these people together, but it was far from the last. The Yuletide Feast was only the third night of the festival; we still had four more high-profile events before we could relax. Even then, it would only be a temporary reprieve—we still had the rest of the campaign to get through.

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “You don’t have to coddle me.”

Both men raised their eyebrows, as if to say this wasn’t my decision and I absolutely did need coddling. Sure enough, Sinclair shook his head and overruled me. “We’ll come home at the first sign you feel overwhelmed—and that isn’t up for debate.”

I turned away, rolling my eyes when I was sure they couldn’t see my face. However, as I started toward the door, Sinclair pulled me back against his chest. The big Alpha lowered his lips to my ear, his deep voice like rough velvet. “I saw that, trouble.”

My stomach swooped with excitement and apprehension, and I tried to make my voice sound stronger than I felt. “And?” I challenged him. “I’m not scared of you.”

A low chuckle vibrated in his chest, and I felt very overheated all of a sudden. “Liar,” Sinclair crooned, petting me affectionately. I was only too aware that his father was only a few feet away and could hear every word. I felt my cheeks flush, but the elder alpha didn’t seem embarrassed at all.

“Alright, you two, we’re going to be late.”

We piled out the door and into the back of the limousine. Sinclair effortlessly lifted his father into the seat and stowed his wheelchair in the trunk before joining us. I was deeply curious about Henry’s relationship with Roger, especially given the way he’d warned us about his presence. “Do you see Roger often?” I inquired shyly.

Dark clouds seemed to pass over the older man’s features. “No, I’m afraid my son has never forgiven me for naming Dominic my heir.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” I apologized, realizing how personal the question was.

“Nonsense, you’re family now,” Henry assured me, looking pensive. “I love my son as any father should,” he said thoughtfully, “and when you welcome your pup, you’ll learn firsthand that children don’t always appreciate what’s best for them. Roger wouldn’t have made a good Alpha, and I had to do what was best for the pack as well as him. Neither would have thrived under his leadership, and I haven’t ever regretted passing the role to Dominic one bit. I just wish it had been possible to do the right thing without sowing so much discord in my family.”

“Roger hated me long before you named me your heir,” Sinclair interjected; his protective side was clearly evident in response to his father’s sadness. “He’s been after me ever since Mom died, and becoming Alpha wouldn’t have helped our relationship at all. If anything, it would have created more problems. He would have mismanaged things, and I would have been compelled to challenge him. You did the right thing.”

“Oh, I know,” Henry reached over to pat Sinclair’s shoulder. “I just can’t help thinking there might have been a better way, that I could have handled it differently, including losing your mother.”

“Everything is easy in hindsight,” I offered gently. “And grief blinds us all; there’s no right way to handle it. Besides, it sounds like these cards were already on the table from the start. I’m sure you did the best you could—and that’s all any of us can hope for.”

“Thank you, Ella,” Henry said, managing a dim smile. “I appreciate that.”

We continued to the fair in peaceful silence, and I found myself staring out the window at the lavish decorations put up around the city the previous day. I’d been too preoccupied fighting with Sinclair to notice them when we’d left the festival, but the old town had truly been transformed for the holiday. Lights, greenery, ice sculptures, and ornaments abounded, glittering almost too brightly against the stark white mounds of fresh snow.

The feast was happening against the backdrop of the Midwinter Fair, and though I wished we had time to explore the carnival, when we arrived, reporters and photographers were clamoring around us the moment we exited the car. Sinclair growled at them in warning when they edged too close to me, and though they backed off, they remained persistent in their demands for questions and photos. So we headed straight to the feast, eager to cross the velvet ropes that would block the clamoring media from the main party.

We had to greet the royal family first, bowing and curtseying to the King, Queen, and Prince and making polite conversation—at least, as polite as one can be with political opponents. Afterward, we moved to our assigned places at the head table, relieved to have the tense interaction resolved.

Sinclair pulled out my chair, but I couldn’t bring myself to sit down. “Oh, no,” I gulped, holding my breath when I saw a large platter of grilled fish on the table. “Is that fish?”

Sinclair followed my gaze, quickly growling at a waiter. “Can you remove the fish, please?”

“Remove it?” The man blinked, looking back and forth between us. I had my hand over my mouth, and my face was probably very pale from holding my breath. I was about to break, needing air but knowing the scent would be terrible.

“Yes, the smell makes Ella sick,” Sinclair explained, getting impatient with the man’s slowness. “Get it out of here; can’t you see what it’s doing to her?”

It was too late; at that moment, I lowered my hand, heaving in a gasp of much-needed oxygen, and felt my stomach turn at the same second. I shook my head, knowing I’d probably turned green, and whimpered when I felt my gag reflex engage. I took off for the restrooms, knowing if I stayed I’d be sick all over the beautiful table.

I could hear Sinclair coming after me, but I raced into the bathroom just as another woman was exiting. I could barely hear their confrontation over the sounds of my own retching, but when Sinclair didn’t enter, I knew the stranger must have insisted he not set foot in the ladies’ room. Propriety must have won out, but I didn’t mind—I hated being sick in front of people, especially handsome men who gave me butterflies.

The door opened just as a second wave of nausea overcame me, and I heard high heels clicking across the floor. “Oh, you poor dear,” a feminine voice said behind me, and gentle hands pulled the hair back from my face. “There, that’s better.”

“Thank you,” I croaked, miserable beyond words.

“Nonsense,” my savior replied. “We she-wolves have to stick together.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” I repeated, looking up for the first time. The other woman was beautiful, with short dark hair and bright blue eyes. She was elegant and sophisticated in a way I’d never be, and I felt a twinge of shame. I bet this stranger had never done anything as unseemly as vomiting in public—pregnant or not.

“This is your first pup,” she observed kindly. “They’re always the hardest.”

“Do you have any?” I asked, moving toward the sink to rinse out my mouth.

“No,” she frowned, a dark look crossing her features. “I haven’t been so blessed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry; it was insensitive of me,” I realized, flushing with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it,” she gave me a long, lingering look full of unspoken emotion. “You’re very lucky, you know,” she murmured meaningfully, then turned and left without another word. I couldn’t help feeling as though I’d missed something important. It was only after she’d gone that I realized I’d never even asked her name.

When I returned to the feast, Sinclair stood to greet me, reaching for my waist. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I tried to summon a smile. “As long as the fish is gone.”

“Do you want to leave?” he asked, stroking my cheek.

I shrugged, leaning into his warmth and pressing my face to the curve of his neck. He smelled so good; it was almost enough to make me forget about being ill. His arms came around me reflexively, and I could hear him breathing in my own scent. However, rather than purring or humming with contentment like he usually did, his body went completely stiff. He pulled away slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion as he searched my features.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, feeling uneasy. He was looking at me as if I’d grown a second head, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“You smell like my ex-wife,” Sinclair gritted out, his wolf suddenly glowing in his eyes. “You smell like Lydia.”