Mated To My Mate's Worst Enemy Chapter 60

ARIA

I stood in the doorway of the pack's main kitchen, watching the flurry of activity as the evening meal was being prepared. The head cook—a stern woman named Martha who'd been running these kitchens for thirty years—glanced up from where she was directing two younger wolves in proper vegetable chopping technique. Her expression when she saw me could only be described as politely glacial.

"Luna Aria," she said, her tone perfectly respectful and completely devoid of warmth. "Is there something you need?"

It had been five days since the council's verdict. Five days since Damon had been stripped of his title and removed to begin his imprisonment. Five days since I'd officially begun taking on the duties of Luna, trying to find my place in a pack that still wasn't entirely sure they wanted me.

"I thought I'd check in," I said, keeping my voice pleasant. "See if there's anything I can help with for tonight's meal. Maybe learn a bit about how the kitchens operate?"

Martha's expression didn't change, but I caught the subtle glances exchanged between the other kitchen workers. The kind of looks that said they'd been talking about me before I arrived and weren't particularly happy about the interruption.

"That's very kind of you to offer," Martha said, in the tone of someone who absolutely did not find it kind at all. "But we have everything well in hand. We've been preparing pack meals for decades without assistance from the Luna. I'm sure you have more important duties to attend to."

The dismissal was polite but firm. And not the first I'd received today.

This morning, it had been the head of the guard contingent—Marcus, the same one who'd tried to keep me from Kael's den during his transformation—who'd coolly informed me that they didn't need a Luna overseeing their training schedules. That they'd managed just fine during the three years Kael was cursed, and they saw no reason to change their protocols now.

Yesterday, it had been the pack's treasurer, a meticulous older wolf named Bernard, who'd made it abundantly clear that he found my questions about pack finances intrusive and unnecessary. "The Alpha reviews these quarterly," he'd said, barely concealing his irritation. "There's no need for duplicate oversight."

And the day before that, it had been three different department heads who'd all somehow found reasons why my input wasn't needed, my presence wasn't helpful, and my attempts to learn their operations were actually hindering their work.

The pattern was clear. Most of the pack wasn't warming to me. They performed the basic courtesies required when Kael or Nina was around—bowing their heads, using my title, maintaining a facade of respect. But when I was alone, when there was no one to witness their behavior, the walls went up. The polite dismissals came out. The subtle message was delivered over and over: we don't want you here, we're just stuck with you.

"Of course," I said to Martha, maintaining my pleasant expression. "I'll leave you to it. Please let me know if there's ever anything I can do to support the kitchen operations."

"Of course, Luna Aria," Martha said, already turning back to her work.

I left the kitchen, trying not to let the rejection sting as much as it did. Behind me, I heard the immediate resumption of conversation—voices that had gone quiet when I entered now picking back up, probably discussing the presumptuous new Luna who didn't know her place.

The walk back through the pack house was no better. I passed several groups of wolves, and each time, the same thing happened. Conversations would pause. Eyes would track me. Polite nods would be offered. And the moment I was out of earshot, the whispers would start.

I didn't need wolf hearing to know what they were saying. The gossip had been circulating since the bonding ceremony—about how I'd caused an Alpha to lose his mind and his title, about how I was too inexperienced to be Luna, about how Ivory would have been a better choice, about how I was only here because Kael had been desperate for a mate to break his curse.

Some of it was probably true. Most of it was definitely unkind.

"Luna Aria!" A cheerful voice called out, and I turned to see Celine approaching. She was one of the two personal maids who'd been assigned to me as Luna—young, efficient, and remarkably neutral about the whole situation.

Celine didn't hate me, as far as I could tell. But she didn't particularly like me either. She did her job with professional competence, kept her opinions to herself, and maintained a pleasant but distant demeanor that made it clear our relationship was purely professional.

"Celine," I greeted her. "Is everything alright?"

"Your afternoon dress has been pressed and laid out in your chambers," she reported. "And Margo wanted me to let you know that she's drawn a bath for you if you'd like to refresh yourself before dinner."

Margo was my other personal maid, and unlike Celine's neutrality, Margo's dislike was barely concealed. She did her work—impeccably, I had to admit—but every task was performed with a tight-lipped disapproval that made it clear she found serving me distasteful. She never spoke more than absolutely necessary, never met my eyes if she could help it, and had perfected the art of the contemptuous curtsy.

"Thank you," I said. "Please tell Margo I appreciate her preparation."

Celine nodded and disappeared back down the corridor, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.

I made my way toward the stairs that led to the residential wing, intending to take advantage of that bath Margo had prepared. But as I passed one of the sitting rooms, I caught sight of movement through the partially open door and paused.

Ivory sat at a table covered in herbs and botanical specimens, her head bent over a mortar and pestle as she ground something with methodical precision. Her bruises had faded to yellowish-green, and the swelling had gone down enough that both eyes could open now. But she still moved carefully, like her ribs or head bothered her when she twisted too quickly.

I hadn't seen much of Ivory since the council hearing. Oh, I knew she was around—Nina mentioned her constantly, and I'd catch glimpses of her moving through the pack house or working in the healing gardens. But Ivory had been meticulously avoiding me. And on the rare occasions when our paths did cross, she made immediate excuses to leave.