It wasn't the ceremonial spread she found fault with—it was me.
I rose from my seat, but Howl stood at the same moment and caught my arm.
He pressed close, his breath warm against my ear, voice low and pleading. "Mother's always been this way... Let's just finish the feast, and then we'll return to our den, alright?"
My claws pressed against my palms as I held his gaze.
His submission made my wolf snarl with frustration.
For his sake, I'd bitten back my pride time and again.
But even an Alpha has her breaking point.
For his mother's name-day, I'd gifted her a bracelet of pure moonsilver. When fever took her, I'd summoned the finest healer in the territory. She craved the admiration of the pack, so I'd commissioned this extravagant eighteen-course ceremonial spread.
And what had I received? Humiliation heaped upon me at every gathering—all because I hadn't yet carried a pup.
What wolf could endure such treatment?
Sensing my genuine fury, Howl hurried to soothe me in hushed tones. "I know you've suffered unfairly. Next moon-turn, we won't come here—we'll celebrate with your birth-pack instead, I swear it."
I felt my hackles lower slightly.
Three years of mating, and I hadn't spent a single Moon-Turn feast with my own kin. Even on the second day of the celebration, I wasn't permitted to visit them.
His mother's words still echoed in my mind: "If you leave, who will distribute the winter gifts to all these pups and pack-kin?"
"You've taken the mating bond—you must uphold this den. Running back to your birth-pack is out of the question."
For the sake of Howl's promise, I told myself: One more time. Just endure it one more time.
At that moment, Jarek Frostclaw lifted his goblet and swayed to his feet.
"Little brother," he slurred, the stench of fermented honey-wine rolling off him, "not to lecture you, but you need to keep your mate under control!"
"Can't carry a pup, but certainly knows how to drain the storehouse dry. Tsk, tsk." He shook his head with exaggerated disapproval. "If she were my bondmate, I'd have put her in her place long ago!"
Beneath the feast table, Joryn kicked him. Her face, however, remained a mask of gentle concern. "You've drunk too much. What nonsense are you howling?"
"I'm not howling nonsense!" Jarek waved her off. "She bonded into the Frostclaw line, so she follows Frostclaw ways. A female running a pack? Out there mingling with who knows which wolves?" He let out a derisive snort. "Probably being mounted by another and doesn't even catch the scent!"
Muffled snickers rippled around the feast table.
Howl kept his head bowed. Silent.
I fixed Jarek with an unwavering stare. "Elder brother, who secured your position in the howl-network? Without me 'out there mingling,' where would you be right now?"
Jarek's face flushed dark as old blood. He jabbed a claw in my direction. "You—!"
"Me what? Did I speak anything but truth?"
I held his gaze without flinching.
Howl immediately seized my arm. "Selene, that's enough—he's my blood-brother!"
My eyes burned with sudden heat.
When others attacked me, he went mute.
When I defended myself, he held me back.
I'd never feared the fangs and claws of the outside world. But betrayal from the one closest to me? That I couldn't bear.
Dahlia Crowmire suddenly turned to her daughter. "You work within Selene's pack—how much of the resource share does she grant you?"
Alyra Crowmire blinked, caught off guard, then answered honestly. "Three hundred silver-weight base, plus a hundred in performance shares."
"What?" Dahlia slammed down her eating knife. "You completed your youngling training, and she's granting you three or four hundred? She's cheating her own bond-kin!"
Alyra rushed to explain. "Mother, I only finished my training this season. That's actually quite generous—"
Dahlia struck the table with her palm. "Selene, you spent eighteen hundred silver-weight on a single feast, but you're this miserly with your own relatives? I won't accept it—you will increase her share. Six hundred minimum!"
That opened the floodgates. Several relatives who held positions within my pack couldn't stay quiet any longer.
"Yes, Selene, what about me? I've served the pack for two seasons now—isn't it time for a larger portion?"
"Exactly! My sire handles your supply runs—that's the dirtiest, hardest labor there is. You can't show favoritism!"
I turned to Howl, my gaze burning.
Every single one of these relatives had found their way into my pack through him.
