chapter 4: THE WOMAN BESIDE MY MATE

By the second morning, Noah’s shoes were beside Kael’s at the front door.

I noticed them on my way to breakfast. One pair was large, black, and polished. The other was small and muddy, with one lace trailing across the floor.

Two days ago, that space had belonged to Kael alone.

I told myself it meant nothing.

When I entered the dining room, Noah was already eating. Kael sat at the head of the table, reading a border report between bites. Selene occupied the chair opposite me.

“Good morning,” Kael said.

I kissed his cheek before sitting down. “Morning.”

A servant approached with coffee, but Selene reached for the pot first.

“Let me.”

She poured Kael a cup and pushed it toward him. “No honey. You always hated it.”

Her smile carried the warmth of an old memory.

I picked up the honey jar and placed it beside Kael’s cup.

“Not anymore.”

Kael looked between us, then added a spoonful.

Noah laughed. “Mama was wrong.”

Selene’s smile tightened.

It was a small victory, and I hated that I needed it.

Breakfast continued with Noah telling Kael about a wooden sword he once owned. Selene added stories from years ago, mentioning places I had never visited and people I did not know. I listened without reacting.

The servants were less careful.

Two maids whispered near the doorway until they noticed me watching. They separated immediately.

By midday, the whole pack probably knew.

The council meeting made that clear.

I sat beside Kael while the elders discussed patrol routes and a dispute near the eastern border. For almost an hour, no one mentioned Noah.

Then Elder Bram cleared his throat.

“There is another matter.”

Kael’s expression hardened. “If this concerns the boy, I already said we are waiting.”

“With respect, Alpha, waiting does not stop people from talking.”

Another elder nodded. “If Noah is truly your son, his position must eventually be addressed.”

My hands remained still on the table.

“His position as what?” I asked.

The elder avoided my eyes.

Cassian answered instead.

“No child should suffer because adults fear uncomfortable truths.”

His voice was calm, almost kind.

I turned toward him. “No one suggested the child should suffer.”

“Of course not, Luna.” He inclined his head. “But uncertainty can be cruel. If Noah is the Alpha’s firstborn, the pack will ask questions.”

There was that word again.

Firstborn.

Kael leaned forward. “There will be no succession decision based on one report.”

The room quieted.

“I’ve ordered an independent test,” he continued. “Until the result arrives, this discussion ends.”

Cassian nodded. “A wise decision.”

No argument. No pressure.

Yet something about his easy agreement bothered me.

As the council moved to another subject, I glanced toward the side entrance. Selene stood beyond the open door with Noah, waiting for Kael. She should have been watching her son.

Instead, she was looking at Cassian.

The moment she noticed me, her attention shifted away.

I said nothing.

Later that afternoon, I found Noah in the small garden behind the pack house. He was pushing a wooden wolf through the grass while Selene sat nearby.

He looked up. “Luna Elara!”

I almost smiled at his excitement.

Then his wooden toy slipped from his hand.

Noah bent forward sharply.

At first, I thought he was coughing. Then I heard the thin whistle in his chest.

Selene jumped up. “Noah?”

The boy tried to answer but could not draw enough air.

I moved before she did.

“Noah, look at me.”

His eyes were wide with panic.

Selene grabbed my arm. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know yet. Let me help him.”

I had trained under Maeve for two years before becoming Luna. Not enough to call myself a healer, but enough to recognize breathing distress.

I opened the small herb case I often carried during pack visits and removed a dark glass bottle.

Selene stared at it. “What is that?”

“A mild lungroot mixture.”

I measured two drops into water and held the cup to Noah’s lips.

“Slowly,” I told him. “Just a little.”

The first minute frightened me. Then his breathing began to ease.

Selene dropped to her knees and pulled him against her.

“Oh, Goddess.”

Noah rested his head on her shoulder.

I checked his pulse. “He still needs Maeve.”

Selene looked at me, and for once there was no challenge in her expression.

“Thank you.”

The words surprised me.

“He’s a child,” I said. “Whatever is happening between the adults has nothing to do with him.”

Her eyes lowered. “You could hate him.”

“No. I couldn’t.”

For a moment, the distance between us seemed smaller.

“I’ll call Maeve,” I said.

I hurried inside and sent a message through the clinic line. Maeve promised to come immediately.

When I returned to the garden, Noah was sitting upright. Selene stood beside the table.

My herb case was open.

I slowed.

Selene turned quickly. “Maeve?”

“She’s coming.”

“Good.” She stepped away from the table. “I was looking for water. Noah said his throat felt dry.”

“There’s a jug inside.”

“I didn’t know.”

I looked at the open case.

One bottle sat at an angle.

I was almost certain I had placed it upright.

Selene followed my gaze. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

Perhaps I had moved it while helping Noah. The last few minutes had been frantic.

I straightened the bottle and checked the label. The mixture inside was concentrated and never meant to be taken without careful measurement.

Then I closed the case.

Behind me, Selene asked softly, “What happens if someone takes too much of that?”