The walk from the west wing to the grand dining hall was a short journey, yet it felt like traveling through a kingdom. The Goldbane estate breathed with the morning bustle of a hundred lives, all spinning on the axis of the legacy I carried on my shoulders.
As Marisol and I hurried down the corridor, the air was filled with the scent of beeswax polish and the faint, earthy aroma of the gardens being tended to through the open windows.
"Good morning, Luna Elowen," a young maid squeaked, pausing her scrubbing to offer a deep, wobbling curtsy.
I slowed my pace, offering her a warm smile. "Good morning, Sophie. How is your little brother doing? Did the medicine the pack doctor sent over help with his fever?"
The girl's eyes widened, shimmering with a touch of awe that I even remembered. "Oh, yes, Luna! He's up and running already. Thank you for asking."
"I'm so glad to hear that. Tell your mother she can take the afternoon off to be with him," I added, already moving again, my heels clicking a rapid-fire rhythm against the marble.
I didn't stop for long, but I made sure to acknowledge Silas, the footman, asking briefly about his father's hip, and nodded to Elena in the laundry. To me, they weren't just "the help"; they were the heartbeat of this house.
My father always said an Alpha is only as strong as the lowest member of their pack.
We reached the arched entrance of the dining hall just as the heavy oak doors were being pulled open. Emerging from the opposite hallway were Gideon and Vector. They moved in sync, even though they were a study in contrasts. Gideon was a golden and broad-shouldered, weary king while Vector was a gray shadow with spectacles that caught the morning lights.
"Vector!" I exclaimed, my heart lifting. "It is so good to see you back. We've missed your presence terribly."
Vector offered a stiff, formal bow. "Luna. Your kindness is appreciated. My absence was… regrettable."
"And your mother? Gideon mentioned she had a stroke. Is she recovering well?" I asked, stepping closer. I reached out as if to touch his arm in sympathy, but he subtly shifted back, maintaining that clinical distance that had always defined him.
"She is stable, Luna. Under the best possible care. Thank you for the inquiry."
Gideon stepped into the space between us, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing a firm, long peck to my temple. He smelled of sandalwood and like a man who had been wrestling with ledgers and lawyers since dawn.
"Hey, sweetheart. You look like you've finally gotten some color back in your cheeks."
"I feel better," I said, looking up at him. "How was the morning work?"
Gideon let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "It's a mountain of red tape, Ellie. Aurelius left behind a labyrinth, but with Vector back, we're finally starting to see the light. I've missed this man's brain more than I care to admit."
"Well, let's feed those brains then," I said, gesturing toward the table.
The dining hall was a huge room of velvet and gold, dominated by a table carved from a single ancient oak. Gideon strode to the head of the table; the rightful place for the acting Alpha. Vector, surprisingly, took the seat immediately to Gideon's right.
I paused for a second. That was the seat my father's Beta usually occupied, or occasionally a high-ranking Council member. My father never allowed anyone who wasn't blood to dine at the main table unless it was a formal banquet.
But I shook the thought away. Gideon needed Vector's counsel more than ever, and if a chair helped stabilize the pack's future, I wasn't one to cling to archaic etiquette.
I walked toward the seat on Gideon's left—the Luna's seat. I began to pull the heavy chair back, my mind already drifting to the conversation Marisol and I had just had upstairs.
"Oh, Goddess, I am absolutely famished," she sighed loudly behind me.
I glanced back. She was standing there, hands pressed to her stomach, her eyes darting toward the spread of smoked salmon, poached eggs, and lemon crepes.
Usually, Marisol would stand by the sideboard until I was served, or head to the servants' hall to eat with the others. But after the vulnerability we had just shared—after she had agreed to carry my child—the lines felt blurred.
My heart ached with gratitude for her. How could I treat her like a servant when she was about to be the vessel for my greatest joy?
"You should eat with us, Mari," I said softly, stepping back from the chair. "After everything… you are far more than a friend to this family. Sit with us."
I made a move to sit in the chair I had just touched, the one right beside my husband, but in a blur of motion, Marisol darted forward.
Before I could even lower myself, she slipped into the seat, her skirts rustling as she claimed the spot directly to Gideon's left. I stumbled back, my hip hitting the edge of the table. I had to reach out and grab the back of the next chair to keep from falling.
The room went deathly silent. Barnaby, the head butler, who was standing by the sideboard with a silver carafe of coffee, froze. His face turned a shade of mottled purple.
"Marisol! What in the name of the Goddess do you think you're doing? Get up this instant! Have you lost your mind?"
The other two maids by the door gasped, their hands flying to their mouths. The protocol of the Goldbane house was being desecrated in real-time.
Marisol's eyes instantly welled with tears, and she looked up at me with a pained, horrified expression, her lower lip trembling. She scrambled to stand, nearly knocking over her water glass.
"Oh! Oh, Luna! I am so, so sorry! I…I was just so excited about our talk, and I was so hungry, I didn't even see you were about to sit. I'm a fool, a clumsy fool! Please, Barnaby, don't be angry. It was an accident!"
She stepped away from the chair, hanging her head, looking utterly dejected.
"It's fine, Barnaby," I said quickly, my heart twinging at her distress.
I stepped forward and placed a hand on Marisol's arm, pulling her back toward the chair. "Truly, it's not a crime to be hungry or excited. She didn't mean any harm."
"Luna, she cannot sit there. It is an insult to your station." Barnaby insisted.
I looked at Gideon, expecting him to back Barnaby up, but he was watching us with a curious glint in his eyes. He reached out and picked up his coffee cup, taking a slow sip.
"It's just for one morning, Barnaby," I argued, my voice firming with that quiet authority I rarely used. "Marisol is my friend. If she wants to sit beside the Alpha today, I don't mind sitting one chair down. It doesn't matter where I sit; the food tastes the same."
I gently pushed Marisol back into the chair. She looked at me with wide, grateful eyes, whispering a soft, "Thank you, Ellie."