Chapter 173 — The Heart of the Pack

Ella

It took me a while to leave the orphans after settling them in the palace. I knew I had a thousand things to do, but seeing so many children in need was overwhelming. I stayed for a few hours to help Isabel and James, glancing at them occasionally to check on their progress.

Isabel remained distant with James and me, but he was gentle and steady, unfazed by her coldness. I occasionally caught the she-wolf returning my glances, but a distinct tinge of jealousy colored her observations. I couldn't blame her—in her position, I'd probably resent my own happiness.

After a while, she approached, interrupting me as I prepared cots for the pups.

"You should let us finish this. You must have more important things to do." I shrugged.

"Actually, this is usually nap time."

I said, wondering if mentioning my pregnancy and comfortable life was a mistake, then hating my tendency to overanalyze. I'd been through enough trauma to know that people walking on eggshells only exacerbated things.

"Then go nap," Isabel instructed brusquely, gesturing toward my abdomen. "You need your rest; you won't have the luxury in a few months."

There was a strange undercurrent in her words, and I sensed she longed for the sleepless nights and overwhelming days of new parenthood.

"If it's alright with you, I'd like to stay," I replied simply, fluffing a pillow and tucking it under the blankets of a cot.

"I was thinking the pups might like to make this space their own. We could build a fort or—"

"They aren't your practice dolls," Isabel interrupted, hands on her hips. "They're real pups hurting badly; they need comfort and safety. Getting attached to another adult who'll disappear as soon as she has her own pup isn't going to help them."

Taking a deep breath, I carefully considered my response.

"I don't need practice, Isabel. I've been raising children since I was one myself—children who, like these pups, have lost everything. I can't promise I'll always have time—due to war, distance, or anything else that might happen—but my son's arrival won't make me forget these children. I'm here because I care and want to help." I paused, studying her closely. "And I might not be a mother yet, but that doesn't mean I have no wisdom to share." Isabel's mouth twitched, close to a quiver.

"Well, you're wrong about one thing," she answered stiffly, turning up her nose. "You're already a mother... more of one than I am, at least."

I desperately wanted to hug her, but knew she wouldn't welcome it. She was so guarded she'd probably bite me. She started to turn away, but I raised my voice, using my newfound alpha authority.

"Once a mother, always a mother. Your love for your child doesn't end with their life, Isabel."

She froze. She didn't turn back or speak, but I saw her shoulders slump and her head hang. She retreated into her bedroom, and a minute later, I heard her muffled sobs.

James appeared, with the helpless expression of an alpha facing a crying she-wolf.

"What happened?" he asked, accusation in his voice. I realized how quickly he'd bonded with the grieving mother.

"She'll tell you her story when she's ready," I answered, her anguish making me want to weep. "She's stubborn and hurting. You'll need to give her time."

James looked at me sharply, his wolf's agitation evident.

"This isn't something I can fix, is it?"

I almost smiled, but I still ached for Isabel.

"No," I murmured gently. "Nothing can fix this. But if you can get past her teeth and claws, you might be able to give her a shoulder to cry on." He looked uncertain.

"You don't think it's too soon?" I shook my head.

"It's never too soon for a hug when someone is suffering."

He set his jaw like a warrior going into battle and marched toward Isabel's room. The door closed, but I heard Isabel's outraged snarls and a scuffle before James rumbled a dominant growl. Then stillness, and a piteous moan. Isabel's keening grew louder, no longer muffled by her efforts to remain quiet. Her sobs were soon joined by purrs, and I was overwhelmingly glad I'd stayed.

It was a small thing, but it felt right. The orphans and refugees needed someone to care for them, and I felt I was that person. I remembered Sinclair's words about Lunas being the heart of the pack, and Henry's explanation of my role inspiring the Alphas at the summit. A torrent of guilt washed over me as I realized how badly I'd treated Sinclair. He was right about me staying in the capital, and I'd shut him out before we could discuss it. I was ashamed.

A little later, I found Roger in the palace kitchens.

"What are you doing here?" I asked good-naturedly, sitting beside him.

"I'm scheming," he replied slyly. "Cora ran off before eating her ice cream, so the pastry chef is helping me make some fresh."

He looked so pleased I laughed despite my gloomy mood.

"Oh, she's going to be furious."

"Bad idea?" he asked, having second thoughts.

"No, good idea. That's why she'll be pissed," I explained. "She loves ice cream. If she resists, she'll be grumpy, and if she gives in, she'll resent you for making her happy."

Roger chuckled darkly. "Excellent." He looked at me curiously. "You don't mind? My interest in her, I mean?"

"No," I said honestly. "Actually, I think you two might be good together, but you've got your work cut out for you."

"Don't I know it," Roger agreed, unbothered. "Of course, if you hurt her, I'll rip your arms off and beat you with them until you're dead from blood loss or blunt force trauma," I added smoothly, perfectly serious.

"I would expect nothing less," he nodded solemnly. "But I have no intention of hurting her, Ella."

"Good," I replied shortly, looking for food.

"Afternoon snack? Pregnancy craving?"

"Actually, I skipped lunch," I confessed, my stomach growling.

"Ooh, I'm going to tell on you," Roger teased, sounding like a child. "Dominic wouldn't approve."

My jaw dropped. "Hey, I just gave you my blessing to date my sister, and this is how you repay my kindness?"

"You're going to be in so much trouble!" he jibed.

"You're such a tattletale!" I accused, swatting his arm. "Haven't you ever heard that snitches get stitches?"

"Yeah, but somehow I don't think you're the type to stab a man for ratting you out," he assessed, pinching my cheek.

"You're too sweet," he said.

I shoved his hand away, my shame and guilt surfacing.

"I'm not," I sighed forlornly. "I can be a real brat."

"Why do you say that?" Roger asked, ceasing his teasing.

"Oh, I've been a really shitty mate to Dominic lately," I confessed. "I made his job harder because I didn't get my way, and I've done some hypocritical things. I'm working up the courage to apologize."

"Well, the good news is you don't need much courage. You know he'll always forgive you," Roger said confidently.

"I mean, yes, the logical part of my brain knows that," I agreed, "but the scared little orphan in me still associates admitting difficult truths with danger. She expects one wrong word to make him stop loving me."

"Well, tell that orphan to shut up, because that's not your life anymore, Ella," Roger instructed firmly. "She doesn't know what she's talking about. My brother loves you more than anything."

"Thank you," I answered, shaking my head. "This has been a really odd time for me. I thought I understood my baggage, but facing the bad things created new ways for them to manifest."

"I get that," Roger said. "When I finally acknowledged Dominic wasn't the monster I'd made him out to be, I thought everything would be easier. It was the beginning, not the end. Facing the truth isn't the hard part; it's the fallout."

"I'm learning exactly that," I confirmed. "And now I have to go deal with it." Roger squeezed my hand.

"Good luck."