I stepped down from the carriage, slow and deliberate, and came to a stop before her. My wolf pressed close to the surface, watchful, reading the air. Every instinct told me this woman's distress was performance, but the crowd couldn't smell what I smelled. Nana Ashwick took one look at the veil covering my face and let a sneer curl across her lips. "So that's why the Luna won't let our mistress through the gates. Afraid that once a younger, prettier she-wolf moves in, she'll steal whatever affection the heir has left for you."
"You are a few years older than our mistress, after all. Males prefer a pretty young thing in their den. That's just the way of the world. Every pack has its share of bonded mates and kept wolves. Why cling so stubbornly to something you've already lost?"
Celeste shuffled forward on her knees until she was right at my feet. She tilted her face upward, lovely as carved jade, and gazed at me. "I beg my lady's mercy."
The moment the words left her lips, she tugged the hem of my skirt from an angle no one else could see, then threw herself backward. Her hands flew to her stomach and she screamed, "My lady, please, spare my pup! Don't kick my stomach!"