The Marchioness Strikes Back,His Mistress Picked the Wrong Woman

I returned to the capital with the Elder Luna Queen after a sacred pilgrimage to the Greyveil Sanctuary.

My carriage was blocked halfway by a delicate-looking she-wolf with a swollen belly.

"I beg the Pack Heir's bonded mate to grant me and my pup a place in the den. I ask for no title, but the baby in my womb is the Heir's own flesh and blood. He cannot be left out in the cold."

The Pack Heir of the Shadowmere bloodline had been mated three years without producing an heir of his own. And now, out of nowhere, someone claimed to be carrying his pup.

The woman trembled as though she might collapse at any moment, the very picture of helplessness.

"The Heir is away from the capital. If his mate mistreats us, if she lets his own flesh and blood be cast aside, does she not fear he'll come home and sever the bond?"

Sever our bond? This woman was clever, I'd give her that. But she'd gotten one thing wrong.

I was not someone the Pack Heir of the Shadowmere bloodline could cast aside.

——

"Please, I beg the Heir's mate to show mercy. Save me."

My carriage had been stopped in the middle of the road. The woman's wailing outside shattered the quiet rest I'd been trying to take.

I had just returned to the capital with the Elder Luna Queen from our pilgrimage to the Greyveil Sanctuary. I'd left the palace and was heading back to the Shadowmere Pack Estate when, right at the gates, a woman's sobbing brought my carriage to a halt.

She had a coquettish face, dressed plainly, with only a single moonstone pin in her hair, and a belly round and heavy with pup. Tears glistened in her eyes as she stared at the carriage, looking so pitiful that passing wolves had already stopped to gawk. Her scent drifted through the curtain before I saw her clearly: honeysuckle and warm milk, and beneath it a thread of something overripe, like bruised peaches left too long in the sun. My wolf stirred, uneasy, though I couldn't yet say why.

Through the curtain of the carriage, she watched me sit motionless inside and threw herself to the ground, baring her throat in desperate submission. "My Luna, please, give Celeste Thornwell a place to belong."

"The pup I carry is the Heir's flesh and blood. I am alone in this world. I need no title for myself, but the baby in my womb is the Heir's only child. He cannot go unrecognized."

"My Luna has been mated to the Heir for years without bearing a pup. Surely you would not stand by and watch the Shadowmere bloodline die out? I beg you, show mercy."

"The pack healer said I'm carrying a boy. If I'm allowed into the pack, once the pup is born, he can be registered under your name. He'll call you Mother."

"I want nothing for myself. But as a mother, I have to fight for my child."

"The Heir's mate has never borne a pup, so naturally she wouldn't understand a mother's heart."

I watched the tears stream down her face, but there it was, that faint glint of triumph in her eyes. How quaint. These little tricks.

"If you truly wanted nothing, why make such a spectacle of stopping my carriage in the middle of the road?"

"If you wanted a title, you could have come to the estate and discussed it properly. There are ways. So why drag this out for the whole pack to see?"

"You're using that pup in your belly as leverage to force me into letting you through those gates. Isn't that right?"

The woman called Celeste shook her head frantically, cradling her belly. "No, my Luna, Celeste knows nothing of such things. It was the Heir who looked after Celeste all along."

"Before he left the capital, the Heir promised he would give Celeste a proper place when he returned. But the date has passed and he hasn't come back. My time is nearly here, and I'm terrified."

"I beg the Heir's mate to be generous. Give this pup a birthright."

"The baby I carry is the Heir's firstborn son. He cannot be left outside the Shadowmere Pack."

"Unless my Luna, unable to bear pups herself, refuses to let any other she-wolf give the Heir an heir. Do you mean to let the Shadowmere bloodline end?"

Her words set the gathered wolves buzzing, low murmurs rippling through the crowd like hackles rising along a spine.

"Well, it's true. The Heir's been mated for years and there's still no pup. His mate, not so much as a whisper of a pregnancy."

"You can't just let the Shadowmere name die out."

"I heard the Heir's mate hasn't even presented him with a chosen companion. Jealous type, if you ask me."

"A she-wolf ought to know her place in the pack. With jealousy like that, how can she serve as Luna? Look at this poor girl, she's about ready to whelp."