Chapter 32 32
Selena’s POV
"Selena?"
I looked, and saw Elder Marcus— not the dead guard but the senior pack member who acted as advisor on territorial things. His haggard face broke into a warm smile upon seeing me.
"Marcus," I greeted him warmly. "Nice to see you again."
“The pack had been lost without you,” he spoke with real sentiment in his voice. "It's been... weird since you're gone."
Different. Such a diplomatic term for what was rapidly becoming, in my judgement, inefficient and improper protocol.
“I’m sure everyone is trying their hardest,” I responded, kindly. “Change is always hard — especially when it’s so abrupt.”
“The new Luna has good intentions,” Marcus continued, sounding generous. "But she lacks experience. There are the traditions, the way you do things she doesn’t comprehend.”
"Of course not. How could she? And these are things that are learned over the course of time, and she’s just so young.” I modulated my voice so it would contain a small measure of sympathetic understanding. "I'm pretty sure that she would be able to pick up what's necessary with proper instruction.”
The implication was clear between the two of us—that this wasn’t happening right now and I could be the answer to that.
“Maybe,” Marcus treaded carefully, “you could visit for an extended stay? The alpha has been … Risked lately. And with the new baby on the way, you know, some sage advice could be good."
"I will do very seriously," I promised him. “The heath of the pack has always been my first priority.”
As he went, looking a fair bit more hopeful than when he’d arrived, I proceeded with my audit of alterations and refigurations on my old home. Every room sent the same message: of a young woman who had struggled mightily to put her mark on this place, to assert herself as mistress of a domain she didn’t fully comprehend.
It would not take much to remind everyone how things were. How everything had gone like clockwork since I had taken control of the pack. How very much safer everybody had felt when a real expert was in charge of the day-to-day.
The girl was over her head, that's all. It was not her fault that she did not have the knowledge or experience suitable for this job. But nor was it the pack’s fault, and they didn’t deserve to suffer for her failings.
Later that day, I came upon Lena in the kitchen and busily discussing with the head cook what meals were to be served during the week. It was excruciating to watch — a young woman attempting to navigate complications she clearly didn’t grasp as the staff stood by with thinly veiled impatience.
“We’ll need to factor in the extra guards Lucien asked for.” Lena shook her head with a hint of uncertainty. “How much extra food should that need?”
"That depends on the rotation Luna," the chef answered. "Are they staying overnight? Working extended shifts? Different assignments require different provisions."
I saw her blush with embarrassment when she realized that she didn’t know these fundamental things. Back in my day, they would have hashed out those particulars days ahead of time with as few complications involved and as many key personnel communicating directly.
“I… I’ll have to consult Lucien for the details,” she concluded.
"Of course, Luna. We will put together a flexible menu in the meantime.”
The cook spoke in a deferential tone, but I could see the exasperation in her eyes. This sort of inefficiency is exactly how everyone’s job gets harder — decisions deferred because the person at the top didn’t know or feel confident making them.
When the cook had gone, I went up to Lena in what I trust was a most sympathetic manner.
“you seems so tired dear” I said softly. "The pregnancy can't be a walk in the park, not to mention all this other stuff you have to deal with."
“I’m handling it,” she said, but I could see the stress in her body language, the slight shaking of her hands that told me one thing: She was more overwhelmed than she cared to say.
"Of course you are. Not that I couldn't help but notice you appeared shaky on the guard rotations. “If we think that those things will just immediately happen, of course, that’s not true — military logistics are kind of complicated for most people who didn’t spend time in them beforehand.”
Her jaw tightened slightly. "I'm learning."
"Naturally. Though perhaps I could help? I dealt with such situations for decades. It could spare you a little bit of needless stress at such a vulnerable time.”
I saw the battle play out over her face, pride at war with practicality, the drive to succeed versus the relief of letting someone else deal with problems she didn’t understand.
"That's... that might be nice,” she conceded at length. "Thank you."
"Think nothing of it. We’re all in this together — wanting what’s best for the pack and Lucien’s peace of mind.”
As I started to lecture her on logistics and how schedules work, I strove to sound educational instead of patronizing. So everything I mentioned was honestly helpful, but it also revealed how little she knew.
I’d grant the girl some intelligence. But intelligence without experience was akin to wielding a knife with no practice behind the cuts — only more likely, perhaps, to cause harm than good. And her pregnancy was leaving her even more emotionally and physically uncertain than she might otherwise be.
“Your hormones are likely messing with the reality of your decision-making at this moment,” I said casually in a lull in our talking. "It's perfectly natural. "Women, particularly when they’re pregnant, often find it difficult to think clearly about complicated things.”
I noticed a small hardening of her posture which let me know that the remark had found its mark. She felt inferior already; all I did was provide her a biological reason to clarify pat she felt.
“I hadn’t heard any differences,” she said, guardedly.
“Oh, they tend to be subtle in the beginning. Greater than average emotionality, low concentration, over thinking decisions that would usually come without a thought. More of the body protecting the growing fetus, really — prompting the mother to become more cautious and rely on others for support.”
Another 100 percent valid reason that Gianna may want based on my direction. For, after all, it was only for her and the baby that I was caring.
My chance to cement my place came the following morning, when several of the pack elders called a meeting concerning territorial boundaries. Lena turned white with panic when she discovered that she was going to have to join in conversation about subjects on which she had never read a page.
“I could sit in with you,” I said casually, like I’d just thought of the idea. “Reframe with a little history that might be relevant. Many of these boundary feuds stretch back decades.”
"Would you?" I could sense the relief in her voice. "I mean, if you don't mind. I don’t want to screw things up that could hurt the pack.”
"Of course, dear. We are all working for the same end.”
The meeting itself was preciously as I had envisioned. The elders shared their fears, while I filled in the blanks that Lena did not have and turned out advice to bring from decades of experience, and generally let the pack see what things looked like when they were running unsmoothly under my command.
“Maybe we should postpone this decision until Lucien gets better,” Lena proposed at a crucial point of the conversation.
“I’d normally be down,” I went, “but timing is not on our side. If we take much longer, the other is going to see our delay as weakness. Sometimes you just have to make a decision, even if it’s uncomfortable.”
I then explained a solution that I had seen work before — one that manifested exactly the sort of strategic thinking successful leadership demanded. The elders gave a nod of approval, visibly relieved to have someone who knew the complicated undertakings.
That makes sense,” Lena said, but I could tell she wasn’t quite comfortable with it yet.
She stayed after the meeting as I fumbled through my papers.
"Thank you," she said quietly. “I don’t think I could have done that by myself.”
“You’re not being fair to yourself,” I said softly. “And that kind of thing is hard even for a seasoned leader. The fact that you know when you need help is good judgment.”
“I don’t know if I really have what it takes sometimes,” she confessed, her hand drifting automatically to rest on her belly. “It seems like everyone else just knows automatically how to do stuff but I’m always trying to guess.”
"Oh, my dear." I put my hand to her arm; tried to comfort her. "You're not giving yourself enough credit. But you’re also in difficult conditions that perhaps anyone would have difficulty enduring. A new pack, a new position, pregnancy and now this awfulness with the attack. Little wonder you are feeling overwhelmed.”
"Do you believe... do you think Lucien wishes he hadn't picked me? Whom he could have had someone more experienced?”
And her quaver, as far as I was concerned, was the vulnerability in her voice that I was trying to develop. This was the time to plant the seed that would sprout into just enough doubt.
"Lucien is in love with you," I told her simply, and the release of tension that shuddered through her shoulders gave proof to my confidence. “But love is not necessarily pragmatic compatibility, and maybe there you’re talking about trying to build something. A leader requires a partner who can actually assist them in their duties; they don’t need someone constantly following their lead.”
I paused to let the words settle before proceeding, my tone adroitly balancing mild correction with gentle sympathy.
“Of course, these abilities can be taught. With time and patience — and the right mentorship — you can absolutely gain the capabilities you require. “The question is whether you have enough time before the pressures get out of hand.”
I saw the doubt clouding her face and I knew, that was exactly what I gained out of this. She was doubting herself, doubting her place, and even whether she was the right woman for the man who loved her.
And once those doubts became lodged, they’d be hugely challenging to shake out.