CHAPTER SEVEN
The first morning without Iris felt manageable. The second felt inconvenient.
By the fourth, the Alpha House no longer sounded the same.
Lucien noticed it while walking toward the dining room before sunrise.
Usually the house greeted the morning in quiet harmony.
Servants crossed the hallways without bumping into one another.
The smell of fresh bread drifted from the kitchens before the first council member arrived.
Somewhere downstairs, Agnes always scolded someone for cutting vegetables too thick or setting the tea too close to the fire.
Today two servants nearly collided outside the staircase, each carrying a stack of folded linens.
"I'm sorry."
"I thought those belonged upstairs."
"They did yesterday."
"No, yesterday they were for the guest rooms."
Their voices faded as Lucien continued walking, but the confusion lingered.
Inside the dining room, breakfast had already been served.
Or at least most of it.
His coffee was missing.
The bread basket was empty.
Someone had placed salted butter beside berry preserves without bothering to bring any bread to spread them on.
Agnes stormed through the doorway carrying a tray balanced against one hip.
"I know."
Lucien hadn't spoken.
She sighed dramatically.
"I know before you tell me."
"I wasn't going to complain."
"That's worse."
She dropped a basket of warm rolls onto the table.
"I've spent twenty years running this kitchen, and today someone managed to prepare breakfast without checking whether the bread had actually finished baking."
Lucien poured himself tea instead.
"It happens."
Agnes gave him a look.
"It never happened."
Only then did he understand what she meant.
It had never happened because Iris checked the kitchen every morning.
Not to supervise.
Simply to ask if anyone needed help.
If the baker looked overwhelmed, she rolled dough beside him.
If a young servant seemed nervous, she quietly rearranged the work so no one felt embarrassed.
Nobody had asked her to.
She had simply done it.
Lucien carried that thought with him into the council chamber.
Unfortunately, the council was having problems of its own.
Two neighboring farming families stood in front of the long table arguing over irrigation rights. The disagreement should have taken ten minutes to resolve.
Instead, both men talked over each other until the chamber echoed with accusations.
"My grandfather dug that canal."
"Your grandfather stole it."
"You've been moving the markers every spring."
"You've been measuring after too much ale."
Lucien rubbed his temples.
"Damon."
The Beta stepped forward.
"I've checked the records."
"Excellent."
"They're both wrong."
The room fell silent.
Damon unfolded a weathered map.
"The canal belongs to the eastern fields. It has for forty years."
One farmer frowned.
"Then why did Luna Iris tell us to share it last summer?"
Lucien looked up.
The man continued before realizing what he'd revealed.
"Our crops were failing. She came herself and worked out a rotation that gave both families enough water."
The second farmer scratched the back of his neck.
"We never argued after that."
Lucien stared at the map.
There was no written record of Iris settling the dispute.
No official decree.
She had simply prevented another problem before it reached his desk.
How many times had she done that?
The question stayed with him for the rest of the morning.
By afternoon, another surprise waited.
The front courtyard was empty.
Usually a dozen children wandered in and out of the Alpha House every day. Some came because the gardens were larger than their own. Others knew Iris always kept honey biscuits hidden in the pantry despite pretending she didn't.
One little boy had visited every Thursday just to read books in the library because it was warmer than his family's cottage during winter.
Today there was no laughter.
No chasing games.
No muddy footprints racing across polished floors.
Only silence.
Lucien found Elodie sitting alone beneath the old maple tree in the garden.
She looked up as he approached.
"Where are the other children?"
He smiled.
"I was hoping you could tell me."
She shrugged.
"I waited."
"For what?"
"For them."
Lucien looked toward the empty gate.
"I thought they always came here."
"So did I."
Elodie lowered her eyes to the rabbit in her lap.
"I wanted to show them my bunny."
The words settled heavily between them.
Later that afternoon, Lucien stopped one of the younger guards near the entrance.
"Have there been fewer visitors?"
The guard shifted awkwardly.
"Only the children, Alpha."
"Why?"
He hesitated.
"They keep asking if Luna Iris is coming back."
Lucien's chest tightened.
"And?"
"We tell them we don't know."
The young man looked genuinely uncomfortable.
"Most of them leave after that."
Lucien stood in the doorway long after the guard returned to his post.
He had spent years believing children visited because the Alpha House was impressive.
He was wrong.
They had come because Iris welcomed them as though every child belonged there.
Inside the house, another disagreement erupted.
This time between two seamstresses arguing over measurements for Elodie's new clothing.
"These sleeves are too long."
"She's growing."
"Not overnight."
Agnes appeared from nowhere carrying a basket of folded towels.
She looked at both women.
"Luna Iris always measured children after lunch."
The seamstresses blinked.
"Why?"
"They eat more honestly after lunch."
The older cook walked away before either could respond.
Lucien watched the exchange with growing disbelief.
Everything in the house seemed connected to Iris.
Not because she demanded control.
Because she noticed details no one else considered important.
That evening he finally escaped the endless meetings and wandered into the library, hoping for an hour of uninterrupted quiet.
Instead, he found a folded list tucked beneath an ink bottle on the desk.
His name covered the front in Iris's handwriting.
Curious, he unfolded it.
Winter blankets should be aired before the first frost.
Remember Mrs. Holloway dislikes taking medicine unless someone drinks tea with her.
The western orchard needs pruning before heavy rain.
The children from Miller's Lane prefer reading after lessons because they're too restless beforehand.
Don't let Damon skip lunch.
Lucien laughed despite himself.
The sound disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
She had written the list weeks ago.
Not for herself.
For him.
He looked around the room.
Her favorite chair remained beside the window.
A pressed flower still rested inside the book she'd been reading.
Nothing about the library had changed.
Yet it felt strangely abandoned.
That night, dinner arrived late because the cooks mistakenly prepared meals for twice the number of council members expected.
Nobody had remembered three delegations had already returned home.
After dinner, Rowan arrived asking Lucien to review succession records immediately.
Before Lucien could answer, Agnes walked into the study carrying a tray.
"Eat first."
"I've already..."
"No."
She planted the tray squarely in front of him.
"Luna Iris asked me one favor before she left."
Lucien looked up.
Agnes folded her arms.
"She told me you forget you're human whenever paperwork piles up."
A reluctant smile touched his face.
"That sounds like her."
"It also happens to be true."
She waited until he took the first bite before leaving the room.
Lucien stared at the meal for a long moment.
He suddenly couldn't remember the last time he'd thanked Iris for doing any of this.
Not breakfast.
Not the disputes she quietly settled.
Not the lonely children she welcomed.
Not the elderly wolves whose medicines she remembered better than they did.
He had accepted it all as though the Alpha House simply functioned that way.
As though it had always been effortless.
It hadn't.
It had been Iris.
And now that she was gone, he could finally see the shape of the emptiness she had left behind.
For the first time since reading her letter, Lucien stopped wondering when she would come home.
Instead, another question took its place.
How many times had she been carrying them all before anyone thought to carry her?