Chapter Text
Morning spilled soft and golden across the chambers, slipping between heavy curtains and brushing the carved beams overhead. Grace stirred beneath the covers, cocooned in the steady warmth of Steve's body curled against hers. His breath was slow, even, brushing the back of her neck where his lips had pressed into her mark sometime in the night.
Her eyes blinked open, and already her mind leapt ahead—lists, names, meetings. The Council. Helena. The omegas. The schools. The healers. And now—her coronation barely hours behind her—the full gravity of what it meant to rise as Queen of the Wolfmoon Pack.
She shifted slightly, calculating where to begin, when the bond tugged—warm and insistent—before she'd even swung her legs out of bed.
Slow down, Little Moon.
His voice was a low murmur in her head, honey-rough with sleep but steady with command. His nose brushed deliberately against the tender skin of her mark, sparks racing down her spine.
"You're awake," she whispered.
"I've been awake since the moment your mind started running," he murmured aloud, voice muffled against her throat. "You don't have to sprint out of the gate, Grace. The kingdom's not going anywhere today."
She huffed a laugh, half-exasperated, half-softened. "There's too much to do. People are waiting."
"People can wait." His hand splayed over her stomach, protective, anchoring. The bond pulsed, thick with something heavier. His voice softened, so low she almost thought she'd imagined it: I can smell it already.
Grace froze. "Smell what?"
His lips curved against her shoulder. "Honey. And milk." His mouth brushed her mark again, his wolf surging smug and certain. "That scent all babies carry. Don't argue with me—I know it."
Grace rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. "Steven." She slipped out from under his arm before he could catch her, planting bare feet on the cold floor. "I don't have time for your nonsense this morning."
"It's not nonsense," he grumbled, propping himself on one elbow to watch her. His golden hair was rumpled from sleep, eyes bright with that stubborn certainty she never won against.
But she had no intention of giving him the satisfaction. Tugging her robe around her shoulders, she strode for the door, raising her voice before he could press the point.
"It's not physically possible, Steve. I'm literally forty-eight hours pregnant." She paused at the door, then called, "Verena! I need help dressing, please!"
Steve groaned and flopped back against the pillows, muttering through the bond, One of these days, you're going to learn I'm always right.
Grace smiled to herself, hidden from his view. We'll see about that.
The door opened more hesitantly than usual, and Verena slipped inside, smoothing her apron as though she expected reprimand for the delay.
"My lady?" Her eyes flicked from Grace—half-dressed, hair tumbling in loose waves—to Steve sprawled across the bed with an expression halfway between thundercloud and smug wolf. "I was told you wouldn't be leaving your suite today."
Grace blinked. "What?"
Steve sat up with far too much satisfaction. "Exactly." His voice carried the weight of someone who had already won. "You're not supposed to leave this room."
"That's absurd," Grace said, turning on him, braid swinging like punctuation. "There's too much to be done—"
"—and you've been running on adrenaline since the day I carried your limp body back..." Steve cut in, steel threaded through his voice. He pushed to his feet, broad shoulders filling the chamber with quiet authority. "You've been pushing and pushing, Gracie. If you don't stop on your own, you'll be stopped for you."
Her lips parted, sharp retort ready, but Verena shifted awkwardly at the door, her voice soft but certain. "He isn't wrong, my lady."
Grace turned, betrayed. "Not you, too."
Verena's fingers worried at her apron ties, expression patient but firm. "You haven't had a morning to breathe since you were taken. Even yesterday—you went straight from your Mating Rite into your Coronation. The King is right. You should rest. At least today."
"That's not true. I got a nap midday," Grace muttered, quieter now, fight draining under the weight of their concern.
"You need more than a nap, and you know it," Verena said gently. After a pause, she added, "I could fetch breakfast. You could eat here together. No duties, no meetings. Just... stillness."
Steve's arm slipped around Grace's waist, grounding, insistent. He lowered his head until his lips brushed her temple. Just one day, Omega Mine.
Grace exhaled slowly, her body softening against him despite herself. But her eyes lingered on the door, already calculating the list that waited on the other side.
Verena slipped out quietly to fetch breakfast. But when the door opened again, it wasn't her who returned.
Sarah entered first, skirts whispering against the stone, followed by Maela, Lydia, and Addie. Each of them carried the look Grace knew too well—not subjects before their Queen, but women before their patient.
Grace stiffened. "What's this?"
Sarah folded her arms, her healer's gaze raking over Grace with the precision of a scalpel. "This is us intervening."
Steve leaned back against the bedpost, smug in his silence.
Grace bristled. "I don't need intervening. I need to work—"
"Wrong hat," Maela interrupted, her voice sharp as steel striking steel. "Take off the crown for a moment. Put on the healer's scarf. What would you say to a woman who'd been through what you've been through these past weeks?"
Grace faltered.
Addie crossed the chamber and took her sister's hand, squeezing hard. "You've been running on survival, Gracie. That's not living. And it's not safe." Her voice cracked, but her eyes held. "Not for you. And not for the pups."
The word landed heavy, undeniable.
Grace's throat tightened. She looked at Lydia, hoping for reprieve, but the pregnant woman only lifted her chin. "Your mate is right. Your sister is right. And you know better than this."
For a moment Grace wanted to fight them all, wanted to prove she could keep carrying the kingdom on her shoulders without faltering. But the healer's truth was plain: she was frayed at the edges, held together by adrenaline and stubbornness. And if she pushed further, something would break.
Her shoulders sagged.
"All right," she said at last, voice quieter. "A compromise. Half an hour with the Council this morning—just enough to set goals and immediate concerns. After that... I'll rest. For the day."
Addie's lips curved, equal parts victory and relief. "That's a start."
"Half an hour," Grace repeated, glancing at Steve as his bond pressed warm against hers. He didn't gloat. He didn't need to. His pride and relief washed through her like sunlight.
She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips all the same.
The meeting did not take place in the Solar.
Instead, they gathered in Steve's private office just down the hall—her ladies-in-waiting posted like sentinels outside, ensuring she couldn't slip away. Grace sat curled in the velvet armchair near the empty fireplace, her silk robe wrapped tight over her sleep slip. She had protested, of course, but Sarah had pointed out with cutting logic that if she wasn't dressed to leave, she couldn't try.
Steve had walked her there himself, and now leaned against the door like a watchful wolf, arms folded, blue eyes steady. He didn't speak a word until the meeting began, then bowed out quietly.
"All right," Grace said at last, tugging the robe's tie tighter. "I get half an hour. Let's make it count."
Sienna inclined her head. "Immediate priorities?"
Grace drew a breath, grounding herself not as Queen, not as Omega, but as healer. "First—pregnancy confirmations. Every omega who participated in the Rite the other night will need to be examined. We need numbers. That's the only way to determine how many midwives we're going to need by the next solstice."
Sarah nodded, already making notes. "We can begin examinations this afternoon, and send word to the healers throughout the realm. If the honey-scent Steve smelled on you is true for others, we'll have our hands full."
Steve's smug pulse through the bond made Grace roll her eyes, but she pressed on. "Second—schools. Long-term, I want three main healer schools for girls: North, Capital, and South. But we're not ready for that yet. Immediate need is midwives. We start there, build the foundation, then expand."
Maria's eyes lit with quiet approval. "That's wise. We can recruit experienced midwives as teachers. Train apprentices quickly. The sooner we prepare, the better."
Addie leaned forward, excitement flickering in her gaze. "Where do we start? The Capital?"
"Yes. And finishing your training," Grace added, her tone firm. "I'll need you up and running sooner than later. When you're not with Nat, you're shadowing Lydia, Mom, or Maela."
She paused, tracing the armrest with her fingertips as her mind spun its lists. "But focusing on the schools—we'll make the Capital the hub. Once the first classes are running, we'll expand North and South. It all needs to get going by the end of the month."
Pepper gave a brisk nod. "That's a plan I can defend before the nobles. Clear, necessary, and immediate."
Grace sat back, exhaling slowly. The weight pressed down, yes—but for once it didn't feel like a burden she carried alone.
"Good," she said softly. "Then that's what we'll do."
Sarah glanced toward the doorframe, where Steve had reappeared, and her mouth quirked. "And after that, you, my stubborn daughter, will eat and rest."
Grace groaned, burying her face in her hands. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"
"Not until the pups are safely here," Sarah said warmly. "Then I'll fuss to make sure all of you are taken care of."
The discussion wound down, notes gathered neatly into Sienna's ledger. Grace leaned back, exhaustion already tugging at her despite her mind still racing.
And then Steve's voice cut through the chamber.
"That's thirty minutes."
She blinked, startled. "What?"
"You promised half an hour." He pushed off the doorframe, stepping behind her chair, his hand brushing her shoulder. His wolf was smug in the bond, steady and immovable.
"Meeting's over, Omega mine," he murmured. "Time to get ready."
Grace frowned. "Ready for what?"
Steve ignored her, his gaze sliding past to her sisters. "Addie. Nat. Is everything ready?"
Natasha smirked like a cat with a cornered bird. Addie nearly vibrated out of her chair, her face alight.
Grace's confusion only deepened. "Everything ready for what?"
Addie turned toward her, practically glowing. "For our honeymoons, of course."
The room went still. Grace's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "Our—what?"
Steve bent close, his lips brushing her temple. His voice rumbled low, equal parts amusement and satisfaction. "You didn't think they'd let us go from coronation straight into meetings, did you? You and I. Bucky and Nat. Addie and Oliver. You're all leaving today."
Grace gaped at him, caught between protest and laughter.
Addie squeezed her hand, eyes shining. "Surprise, Gracie. The kingdom can wait a few days. This is for us."
Grace looked around at them all—her sisters, her council, her mate—and felt the weight of the crown slip, just for a moment, replaced by something lighter.
The bond pulsed warm as Steve's wolf wrapped around hers, smug and sure.
And for once, Grace didn't argue.