I slipped quietly from the bed before dawn fully settled over the pack grounds, careful not to wake Theron sleeping beside me. Pale moonlight filtered through the tall windows of the Alpha chambers, silver stretching across stone walls and thick furs. For a moment, I stood there remembering when waking beside my mate used to make me feel loved instead of painfully alone.
Then I crossed the room toward the wooden cabinet tucked into the corner.
That cabinet was the only thing in the packhouse that truly felt mine. Not the kitchens I spent decades tending. Not the endless duties expected of a Luna. Not the grand halls everyone praised me for maintaining. Those belonged to the pack, to Theron, to the family I had spent twenty-five years serving without complaint.
But inside that cabinet were the few things I had bought for myself.
The moment I opened it, my breath caught.
The carved wooden box on the second shelf sat empty.
I froze before frantically opening drawers with shaking hands. The moonflower powder I bought from southern traders was gone. The berry lip pigments wrapped carefully in silk cloth had disappeared too, along with the crystal perfume vial I had admired for nearly a year before finally buying it.
Gone.
Panic rose sharply in my chest as I searched the shelves again and again, though deep down I already knew the truth.
Without thinking, I hurried downstairs.
Theron sat near the hearth in the main hall, trade scrolls spread across the low table before him. Cedarwood smoke filled the air, but it did nothing to ease the ache growing inside me.
“Theron,” I asked carefully, “have you seen the cosmetics I kept upstairs?”
He barely looked up.
“Oh, those?” he replied casually. “I gave them to Marisella.”
The words struck so hard I forgot how to breathe.
“You gave them to her?” My voice cracked. “Theron, those were mine. I only bought them last week.”
That finally made him glance at me, amusement flickering across his face.
“Elyria,” he said with a short laugh, “what exactly do you need cosmetics for?”
I stared at him silently.
“It is not like you attend gatherings anymore,” he continued. “And honestly, you are too old to concern yourself with things like that now.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“No, truly.” He leaned back in his chair, almost entertained by my expression. “Have you looked at yourself lately? Those things no longer suit you.” Then he smiled faintly. “Marisella, on the other hand, carries herself beautifully. She works hard for this pack. She deserves nice things.”
Something inside me cracked.
“It was mine,” I said louder, my hands trembling violently. “I bought those with my own money.”
Theron rolled his eyes immediately.
“Your own money?” he repeated flatly. “Elyria, everything you own comes from me.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the truth burned too deeply.
Those things had not come from him.
For five years, I had cared for the moonblossoms and silver roses behind the packhouse myself. I watered them before sunrise and tended them long after everyone slept. During seasonal gatherings, I quietly sold flower bundles to merchants and visiting wolves, saving every moonstone coin little by little until I could finally buy something for myself.
Not once had I asked Theron for money that was not meant for the household.
I already knew how he would react.
Like I was selfish.
Like I was a burden.
So years ago, I stopped asking altogether.
And now the one thing I bought with pride after years of effort had been handed to another woman without hesitation.
Theron sighed heavily, as though I were the difficult one.
“Stop making such a fuss over something trivial,” he muttered. “I will replace them eventually.”
Eventually.
The word felt hollow, dismissive. Like he was calming a servant instead of speaking to his mate.
“You really do not care about me anymore,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
His expression hardened instantly.
“You are being dramatic again,” he snapped. “For once, think beyond your own feelings. Marisella practically saved this pack after securing those trade alliances. She deserves appreciation.” His voice turned colder. “You would not understand matters like this anyway. You know nothing about leadership or negotiations.”
Then he waved dismissively toward the kitchens.
“Now stop overreacting and prepare breakfast. I am starving.”
His words hurt more than a slap ever could.
I turned away before he saw the tears gathering in my eyes, but just as I reached the doorway, his lazy voice stopped me again.
“Oh, and I will be leaving tomorrow for a week,” he said casually. “There is a diplomatic journey to the southern territories. At least you will finally get a break from taking care of me.”
I said nothing.
What was left to say?
So I cooked.
Again.
Just as I always did.
Later that afternoon, our son arrived with his mate. The moment they entered the great hall, I smiled automatically, though it felt strange on my face now, like an expression I no longer recognized.
During dinner, they spoke excitedly about the upcoming trip south.
“I heard the Moon Tide Voyage is beautiful this season,” my daughter-in-law said brightly while servants refilled goblets around the table. “The ocean reflects the moonlight so clearly at night that the water looks silver.”
“There are hot springs too,” my son added with a grin. “And feasts every evening.”
I paused while pouring stew into their bowls.
“I thought this was supposed to be a diplomatic journey,” I murmured quietly.
My son laughed awkwardly.
“Well... partly official, partly recreational,” he explained quickly. “The allied Alphas are combining negotiations with festivities this year.”
Then he smiled at me almost guiltily.
“Do not worry, Mother. We will bring you something back from the southern markets.”
“A carved moonstone ornament would look lovely in your room,” his mate added warmly.
I forced a soft laugh.
“A simple keepsake would already be enough.”
Beside me, Father shook his head.
“If only you had taken interest in pack affairs years ago, perhaps you could have attended events like this too.”
I nodded quietly and smiled again because pretending no longer even hurt. Somewhere along the years, pain had settled into something dull and permanent, like an old wound that never healed properly.
That night, after everyone retired, I sat alone packing Theron’s clothes into the traveling trunk prepared for his journey. Thick fur-lined cloaks. Formal tunics embroidered with the Darkmoor crest. Ceremonial garments meant for gatherings beneath the full moon.
As I reached for another folded shirt, a soft glow flickered across the moonstone communication mirror resting on the desk nearby.
I frowned slightly.
Theron rarely allowed anyone near his correspondence mirror.
The enchanted stone pulsed again, lighting the dark room with pale silver. Without thinking, I glanced toward it.
Then froze.
A message shimmered across the mirror’s surface.
Moon Tide Voyage Reservation Confirmed.
My heartbeat stumbled painfully.
Slowly, I stepped closer.
The glowing text shifted, revealing more details.
Private ocean suite.
Sacred hot spring access.
Bonded couples’ retreat package.
Moonlit ceremonial dinners.
My fingers trembled violently.
Then I noticed another document attached beneath the reservation.
An invitation.
I stared blankly as enchanted ink revealed the names written across the page.
Alpha Theron Darkmoor
and
Lady Marisella Darkveil
request the honor of your presence
as we celebrate our sacred union beneath the blessing of the Moon Goddess aboard the Moon Tide Voyage.
The world tilted around me.
My knees gave out so suddenly that I collapsed into the chair behind me, one trembling hand covering my mouth as I stared at the glowing words over and over again.
No.
This was not simply a diplomatic journey.
It was not merely an affair hidden behind excuses and late-night meetings anymore.
It was a celebration.
A sacred union.
A public mating ceremony blessed before the Moon Goddess herself.
And everyone already knew.
My son knew.
My father knew.
The family I had spent twenty-five years loving and serving had known all along that Theron intended to replace me with Marisella.
Yet every day, they still sat at my table and allowed me to cook for them, clean for them, smile for them, while they quietly prepared another woman to stand beside my mate.
A broken sound escaped my throat as tears finally spilled freely down my face.
Not because of the cosmetics.
Not because of the journey.
But because I had given these people everything I was.
My youth.
My loyalty.
My love.
My entire life.
And in the end, it had meant absolutely nothing.
I covered my mouth to silence the sobs threatening to escape while laughter echoed faintly through the packhouse halls outside, the people I loved already planning their future together—
A future that no longer had any place for me.
