The room that stopped being hers

Phoebe's POV 

"Put that down," I said, my hand catching the edge of the smooth, dark oak wood.

The tall footman didn't stop. He kept pulling, his heavy boots scuffing the pale rug I had cleaned myself three weeks ago. "The Luna’s orders, ma'am. The Beta's daughter needs the eastern rooms prepared before nightfall. The sun hits these windows first."

"I am the Luna," I said. My voice was quiet, but it shook so hard my teeth clicked together. "And I built that."

It was true. Two years ago, when the doctors first told us my body wasn't making the wolf-blessing needed to hold a pregnancy, I bought raw planks from the town below the mountain. I sanded every corner until my palms bled. I carved tiny pine needles along the top rail so our baby's fingers would have something smooth to touch. 

Kendrix had laughed when he saw me sitting on the floor covered in sawdust, calling me his stubborn girl, kissing the dust off my forehead.

The footman didn't look at my eyes. He looked at the floor just behind my right shoulder, the way all the pack servants did when Kendrix wasn't standing beside me. "We were told to clear the entire floor, ma'am. For the main bloodline."

"Leave it."

"She doesn't need to leave anything, Martha," a light, sweet voice called from the open doorway.

Victoria stepped into the room. She had changed out of her muddy road leather into a soft cream dress that draped loosely over her waist. Her golden hair was pinned back, neat and clean, smelling of fresh lavender oil from the Alpha’s private bath.

She walked past the footman without looking at him, her fingers brushing the top edge of my crib. "It's a bit small, don't you think? Warrior pups grow fast. Their bones are heavy. A simple human frame won't support the weight once the wolf spirit starts to settle in."

"It's solid wood," I said, stepping between her and the hand-carved rail. "It doesn't need a wolf spirit to hold a sleeping child."

Victoria smiled, a small, sad curve of her lips that didn't reach her bright blue eyes. "Oh, Phoebe. No one is saying you didn't try. But we have to be practical now. The elders want the strong bloodlines near the front court. It's about safety. You understand safety, don't you? Being without a wolf, you know how fragile things are."

My hand went inside my apron pocket. The hard corners of the small ribbon box bit into my skin again. I wanted to drag it out. I wanted to throw the two pink lines in her face and tell her that my child was already growing, that my child was the Alpha's blood, too. 

But the footman was standing right there, his eyes darting between us, waiting to report every word back to the Beta’s table. If I said it now, without Kendrix beside me, Victoria would call it an Omega's breakdown. She would have the pack doctors bring sleep-herbs to my room before sunset.

"Get out of my nursery," I whispered.

"It isn't yours anymore," Victoria said softly, her voice so gentle the footman probably thought she was comforting me. "It never really was, was it? Five years is a long time to keep a room empty, Phoebe. The house was starting to feel like a grave."

"Victoria."

Kendrix stood in the doorframe. He was still wearing his grey trousers and white linen shirt from the morning, the collar open, his dark hair messy. He looked tired, the skin beneath his eyes dark and swollen from a night without sleep.

Victoria turned instantly, her smile softening, her hands folding neatly over her stomach. "Kendrix. I was just telling Phoebe that we don't have to throw anything away. We can store these old pieces down in the low cellars until... well, until they're needed."

Kendrix looked at the crib, then at the footman holding the wooden side rail, and finally at me. He didn't see the hours I had spent sanding those edges. He didn't see the blood under my fingernails from two years ago. He just saw three people standing in a room full of old furniture.

"Phoebe," he said, taking a step toward me, his heavy hand resting on my shoulder. His thumb rubbed the side of my neck, trying to soothe me the way he always did when the elders were loud during feast days. "It's just wood, honey. We can buy new sets from the city. Victoria’s father wants the nursery expanded anyway to fit the guards for the child. It makes sense."

I stared at his chest, at the silver Alpha crest pinned to his shirt. "I built this, Kendrix."

"I know," he said softly, his voice full of that heavy, polite patience that made my heart turn to ice. "And you did a beautiful job. But we have bigger things to settle today. The elders are waiting down in the hall for the border reports. We don't need to fight over furniture."

It's not furniture, I wanted to scream. It's the only place in this entire stone castle where I wasn't useless.

He kissed the top of my head, a quick, dry touch, then turned back to Victoria. "Come down to the solar when you're done here. Garrick brought the papers from the southern watch."

"I'll be down in a moment, Alpha," Victoria said, her tone dropping into that respectful, sweet cadence the elders loved.

Kendrix walked out, his heavy boots fading down the stone corridor. He didn't look back to see if the footman put the crib down. He didn't look back because to him, nothing had been stolen. He thought he was fixing a small household problem. He didn't realize that by giving her the room, he had given her the right to wipe my hands off the walls.

Victoria watched the doorway until his footsteps were completely gone. Then she looked back at the footman. "Take it to the lower yard," she said, her voice completely flat now, cold as mountain iron. "Burn the wood. I don't want old dust in here."

The footman nodded once, hoisted the wooden frame onto his shoulder, and walked out.

I stood there in the center of the bare floorboards, the empty space where the crib had been looking like a missing tooth. Victoria smoothed down her cream dress, picked up a small silver bell from the windowsill, and rang it once for the floor maid.

A young girl with pale hair rushed in, her apron fluttering, her breath coming fast. "Yes, ma'am? I mean—yes, Luna?"

The girl caught her own tongue, her face going instantly white as chalk. She looked at me, then at Victoria, her lip trembling as if she expected a whip to hit her back.

Victoria didn't correct her. She just smiled, turning her back on me to look out the tall windows toward the courtyard below. "Bring fresh white linens for the bed. And tell the kitchens I will take my tea in the morning room from now on."

The girl bowed low, her eyes fixed on the floor, and hurried away.

I stood in the cold sunlight streaming through the window, my fingers locked tightly around the small box in my pocket. Victoria thought she was taking my home because she was carrying the Alpha's child. But as I watched her hand rest on her belly, a strange, cold thought settled into my mind.

Garrick had been standing right behind her in the hall last night, his eyes fixed on the floor, his hands shaking so hard he couldn't unbuckle his own sword. And three months ago, during the week of the rogue breach, Kendrix had been stuck at the northern river camp for four days straight—a trail three days' ride from where Victoria had been staying.

If Kendrix was at the river, whose child was she actually carrying?