Emory’s reflections were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Kirsten entered, followed by two of the attendants who had been in her welcoming group earlier. One of them carried a tray that smelled like heaven.

“You need to eat something before we leave, dear. It’s been a long day,” Kirsten insisted gently, directing her attendants to place the tray on the dining table across the room.

That’s when Emory’s gaze wandered, her mind ticking over the absence of her own attendants. She had met Sawyer and Harley-her attendants-earlier when she stepped out of the bathroom, just as Kirsten had said. Living with Aunt Kinshra, so far removed from the pack’s daily bustle, had made her forget the luxury, or perhaps the constraint, of having attendants.

The memory of her father’s over protectiveness, his warriors shadowing her every step, flashed through her mind. She hadn’t missed it, not one bit, and readjusting to this level of attentiveness was going to be” interesting.

With a small smile of thanks, Emory settled at the dining table to eat, allowing herself a moment of normalcy in the storm of impending decisions. With every bite, though, her mind wandered to that letter from the king.

She was halfway through her meal when Kirsten, crossing the room, paused to give her a once-over. “You look stunning. Wasn’t sure if the crest colour would clash with your hair, but it’s a perfect match for your eyes,” she said, clearly pleased with her choice.

Wolf wakes were sacred and had their own colour code. Guests typically wore black as a sign of mourning, while the decease’s family wore the predominant colour of their family crest. For the Chav—res, that was emerald green, the same vibrant shade as their eyes.

It was only then that Emory really looked at her dress—a masterpiece of emerald green. The bodice was laced and beaded intricately, accentuating Emory’s figure in the right places. The skirt fell gracefully to the floor, with layers of tulle.

“Did you design this?” she asked, genuinely impressed. It was the nicest thing she owed now.

Kirsten nodded with a humble smile. “Yes, I wanted to create something special for you,” she said.

“It’s amazing,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do. Finish up so we can join the wake. Guests are starting to arrive.” As Kirsten sat next to her, she placed a jewellery box by Emory’s hand. “Trey wanted me to give this to you.”

She was so hungry, and the smoked turkey sauce over steamed rice was amazing! But she put her cutlery down and picked up the box. Inside, a necklace with an aquamarine stone made Emory’s heart skip. It was her mum’s, a piece she’d always cherished, and it was a Chav’re heirloom reserved for the Luna of Kedar.

“I can’t accept this,” Emory protested, pushing the box back towards Kirsten. “This should be for the Luna of Kedar.”

But Kirsten insisted. “Your mum would want you to have it.” She nudged the box back, encouraging Emory to accept it. “And I want you to have it too, Emory.”

“Why?” The question came out more sharply than Emory had intended, her defences instinctively kicking in.

Kirsten sighed and said, “Because I know what it’s like to lose those you love. No one should have to go through that alone. I’d really like to be there for you, be your friend, if you’re open to it. Think of this necklace as a token of that friendship.”

Emory stared at Kirsten, sifting through her words for any underlying motive. But maybe there was none. Maybe Kirsten was genuinely kind and caring—qualities that made her Trey’s mate. Her mum had been the same, personifying the warmth and openness often associated with Lunas. It dawned on Emory then why she herself could never fit into those shoes; she was cut from a different cloth.

With a hesitant nod, Emory accepted the necklace. The gesture felt more significant than she wanted it to be. She took a sip of water to clear her thoughts and stood up, mentally bracing herself for the wake.

“Where are your attendants?” Kirsten asked, getting up as well.

Emory shrugged lightly, a bit embarrassed that she hadn’t kept track of Sawyer and Harley since getting dressed. “Probably just around,” she guessed, her brain doing a quick recalibration on pack protocols—weren’t attendants supposed to be like shadows, always close by?

“Attendants!” Kirsten’s voice suddenly shifted from concerned to commanding, slicing through the room as she marched back into the living area. “Where are they?” she demanded. She then turned to one of her attendants. “Kivela, find them.” The attendant bowed and took off on her mission.

Emory laughed softly at the sight, reminded of her mother’s legendary quicksilver moods. She brushed the nostalgia aside. “I don’t think they’re around here,” she said.

“They’re not here, Luna,” Kivela reported back, confirming Emory’s suspicions.

“That’s unacceptable. Let’s head out. Have Tommy locate them and I want them to report to me immediately,” she instructed, dispatching Kivela with a new task.

“It’s no biggie, Kirsten. They might’ve ducked out to prepare for the wake too,” she suggested, hoping her attendants just had a timing mishap.

But Kirsten wasn’t having any of it. “And they didn’t think to inform you or ask if you needed anything before they disappeared?” she countered, making it clear that in her book, such a lapse was a serious breach of duty. “This isn’t just about following rules. It’s about the respect due to you as a Chav’re. Their actions—or lack thereof—are unacceptable!”

“I am sure something came up, and they had to rush off.” Emory shrugged.

“They should’ve informed you, Emory. That’s basic respect. Doesn’t that bother you?” Kirsten pressed, her concern not just for protocol but for Emory’s position within the pack.

“To be honest, having people wait on me hand and foot hasn’t been my reality for years.” Emory walked over to Kirsten, offering a reassuring smile. “And as for fear or respect, well, they hardly know me.”

“You are a Chav’re, an Ultima. I think maybe Kinshra focused a bit too much on your physical training and forgot to clue you in on the “royalty” aspect,” Kirsten pointed out, her brows knitting together in a worried frown.

Emory paused, letting Kirsten’s words sink in. She had a point. Being respected wasn’t something Emory had spent a lot of time thinking about, mostly because she still felt like she was standing on the outside looking in. But ignoring her role wasn’t an option, not when she carried the Chav’re legacy in her veins, along with the rare ability to turn humans into wolves.

“I’m not trying to lecture you or anything,” Kirsten hurried to add, her tone softening, hoping she hadn’t crossed a line. “I know you’re in a tough spot right now, but I just think it’s important for the pack to respect your role, you know? Especially your Omegas.”

“It’s okay. I really do get where you’re coming from,” she reassured Kirsten with a gentle smile.

It was a wake-up call. Emory took a moment to process everything, realizing the importance of balancing her warrior spirit with the leadership role she inherited.

Then, with a look of newfound respect, she turned to Kirsten. “Now I get why you’re the Luna. Sure, I might have my mum’s looks, but you’ve got her spirit.”

Kirsten blinked, taken aback. “That’s really sweet of you to say.”

Emory shook her head. “No, I mean it. Being a Luna? That’s not in my cards. I’m more a warrior than anything else. I’m not one for these courtly dances,” she confessed. “Hierarchy and all those traditions” they’re not my first thought.”

“But they’re what keep our society together. Ignoring them could really throw things off balance within the pack.”

“I get that they matter,” Emory acknowledged. “It’s just” I think my path lies in a different direction. But yeah, I’m with you on the whole respect thing. My attendants vanishing without a word? Not cool at all.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a soft knock, and in walked Kivela, escorting a sheepish-looking Sawyer and Harley back to Emory’s side.

“Luna. Lady Chav’re,” they greeted in unison, looking like kids caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

Kirsten wasted no time. “Where did you dig them up?”

“In the staff quarters, Luna. They figured their job was just to help Lady Chav’re get ready and then” that was it,” Kivela explained.

That made Emory take a step back, her memories from before she left Kedar flooding in. Every attendant received clear instructions on their role, outlined in an official document from the Chief Attendant. The thought that Sawyer and Harley might have deliberately chosen to leave without notice, effectively disrespecting her and Kirsten, boiled her blood. This wasn’t just an oversight; it felt like a calculated snub.

“Did you receive the official memo from the Luna?” Emory turned to her attendants, throwing them a look of disbelief and disappointment. Kirsten’s reaction was a picture of surprise, as if Emory pulling out pack protocol was the last thing she expected.

“Yes, Lady Chav’re,” came the immediate, almost rehearsed reply from Sawyer and Harley.

“Then you either completely ignored your orders, thinking you could just do whatever and lie to me about it, or you didn’t bother reading them at all. Both of which are absolutely unacceptable. So which is it?” Emory’s tone was sharp, her patience thinning by the second.

The room fell into an uneasy silence following Emory’s ultimatum, and she hated the way their gazes dropped, avoiding eye contact. It bothered her, the silent admission of guilt. Despite giving them a chance to explain or defend their actions, all she got was silence—a silence heavy with disappointment. Kirsten’s nod was like a silent cheer, urging Emory to stand her ground and handle them.

“The thing that really gets me,” Emory continued, her voice calm but laced with an undeniable edge, “is that you stood here and lied straight to our faces. Disrespecting me and the Luna like that is unforgivable. If serving in the Chav’re estate isn’t something you take seriously, then it’s clear you shouldn’t be here.”

Before either of them could plead their case, Kirsten stepped in with a firm, “Enough!” halting any attempt at excuses.

Her decision wasn’t just a reaction to their immediate mistake, but a broader stance on the principles that held their community together—respect, honesty, and duty.

“Tommy!” Kirsten’s call brought him quickly into the room. “These two are no longer in the services of the Chav’re household, by Lady Chav’re’s orders. Make sure it’s official,” she said.

Nodding, Tommy turned to the two. “Understood, Luna,” he said, ushering the dismissed attendees away.

“I’ll have the Chief Attendant see you after the wake and find someone more in line with what you need,” Kirsten told them, then paused and added. “You did good.”

Kirsten nodded her approval as they walked out, ready to go to the wake.

As they left her flat, Emory thought it could have been a lot worse. And she had the means to enforce a much stricter punishment, one that would have made them regret their actions more deeply instead of dismissal. Though part of her wanted an outcome other than dismissal, she understood the necessity of doing that.