Shattered Bonds A Second Chance Mate (by Yui) novel Chapter 201

Chapter 201

By the end, the table looked like victory–not the kind that demands banners, but the kind that makes children sticky and elders drowsy and warriors a little less likely to break their teeth on their own pride.

I can’t help but feel happy that this works, my plan has succesful.

As people drifted out, carrying scraps and smiles, I turned to the work after the work.

“Keep the windows open,” I told the servants. “Air the cast corridor–those doors have slept too long. Take linens to the rooms Henri locked and strip the beds. We need space for families who arrive without warning.”

“To the cellars,” Maria said, tapping her spoon against her palm like a baton. “Inventory. We stretch what we have, buy what we must. Luna, I will need a list for the market and men with backs like oxen.”

I nodded my head in agreement “You’ll have both,” I said. “Alfonso?”

He was already there, quill and ledger appearing as if by magic. “Maria is head of supplies,” he announced, which delighted her into swatting him with a towel. “Marlow, order your man to rotate patrols along the southern orchards. If Dorian thinks to use empty stomachs to inflame old loyalties, I want those orchards. guarded like a treasury.”

“Done,” Marlow said. “And the rumor mill?”

I smiled without sweetness. “We feed it answers, not outrage. This afternoon, we post notices in the square: open forum at sunset. I will speak. The King will hear petitions. We will answer questions about Isolde, about the ward, about our laws. In daylight. In the open.”

Francesco’s hand found mine again–not to guide, not to claim, but to agree. “Together,” he said. I nodded.

“Also,” I added, catching his eye and then the elder’s, “we will start classes in the afternoons for the children- letters and numbers, history that isn’t written by whoever shouts loudest. Julius can teach. Bethany will help. If we want to end Dorian’s whispers, we teach a generation to recognize the sound of a lie.”

Alfonso’s quill scratched. Marlow grunted something that sounded like approval. Audrey–still chewing a piece of bread Maria had snuck into her hand–actually smiled.

The lieutenant from before lingered near the arch, clearly deciding whether to leave with dignity or risk one

more comment.

He chose prudence and bowed to me with something like real respect.

“Lady Luna,” he said quietly. “If this is how the Lycaon rules, perhaps France will have to learn a few Italian habits.”

I turned my head to him and nodded my head. “Only the best ones,” I answered, and let him go.

As the hall emptied, I exhaled. ‘Finally‘ I thought in tiredness.

The scent of rosemary clung to the air.

12:00 Tue, Sep 30

Chapter 201

The flowers were listing slightly, tired from their duty. I straightened them. It mattered.

Francesco watched me as if the act itself–correcting a jar of sprigs–were the line between a kingdom and a

ruin.

“You are doing something I could not,” he said softly.

“You could,” I said. “You simply had to kill your brother instead.” I give him a warm and understanding smile.

He went very still, then nodded once, the motion as humble as it was terrible. “And you,” he murmured, “are killing the story he left behind.”

I pressed my brow to his. “Not killing…. Um, composting. Let it rot into something that feeds us.”

He huffed a laugh, then sobered. “The Alpha is gone,” he said, meaning Henri, meaning the sour breath that had soured these walls. “But Dorian is not. He’ll try again.”

“I know,” I said. “He came with rogues last night and left with a new story to fear.” My eyes held his. “He saw the White Wolf.”

The bond sparked–pride, worry, want, all braided. “Next time,” he murmured, thumb sweeping my knuckles, “I stand at your side when you show him.”

“Next time,” I promised. “For now–go wash the flour off your kingly hands. Maria will tell everyone I made you knead bread.”

“She already has,” he said dryly, glancing toward the kitchen where Maria was absolutely telling everyone I had made him knead bread. “And they look… delighted.”

“Good,” I said. “Let them keep that story. It’s true.”

He kissed me, low and sure, and the hall took that story, too.

Outside, the courtyard filled again—the sound of work and children, the thud of practice swords, the small opera of a place remembering how to live.

Inside, the long table gleamed a little duller now, as all good tables should after doing their job. I ran my finger along the grain, thinking of tonight’s forum, of notices on boards, of Julius’s patient voice teaching a child to shape her first letter.

We would not win by teeth alone. We would not win by kindness alone. We would win by repetition—by the daily, stubborn act of living well in the open. By feeding mouths. By airing rooms. By telling the truth at a long table with the windows unlatched.

Let them bring their old legends of Lycaon ruthlessness.

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