"A she-wolf ought to know her place in the pack. With jealousy like that, how can she serve as Luna? Look at this poor girl, she's about ready to whelp."
Celeste dabbed at her tears, stealing a glance toward the carriage from the corner of her eye.
Nana Ashwick, the old nursemaid at her side, stepped forward. The sour undertone of stale dried herbs and tallow rolled off her in waves as she raised her voice for the crowd. "Bonded mate of Ferris Shadowmere, bearing pups for your mate is a she-wolf's most basic duty. You can't conceive yourself, haven't produced a single pup in years, and now our mistress carries the heir's flesh and blood. You ought to be on your knees baring your throat in gratitude, welcoming her through those gates with full ceremony."
"She's delicate. The young master never lets anyone cause our mistress the slightest distress. You stand there ignoring her, leaving her to kneel in the dirt. If something happens to the pup because of you, can you bear that responsibility?"