Brad's presence grew heavier with every hour.
He didn't crowd her...not outright...but his wolf never let her out of its sight. In council, he stood two steps behind her chair with his arms folded and a gaze hard enough that the Lords and Ladies in attendance shifted in their seats.
In the corridors, he walked just far enough off her shoulder to make it not look deliberate, but close enough that he could react to any threat, real or imagined.
At first, Ann told herself it was temporary. A day. Maybe two. In a fit of anger and a rare moment that she lost her cool openly, she even told him to leave. Twice.
And each time, he'd bowed his head to appease her and said "Of course. Whatever you want." or " Understood, I'll make the arrangements."
But he still stayed anyway.
And the subtle things were worse.
When she paused at the bottom of the stairs, his hand twitched like he might offer an arm. She shut that down with a glare.
When she dropped a pen in the council chamber, he was the one who bent to retrieve it, placing it on the table like he still had a right to small and familiar intimacies.
When she crossed the courtyard, he angled himself between her and a group of murmuring nobles, protective in a way that looked far too familiar.
"Stop," she'd snapped under her breath that time.
"No," He'd answered, "I can't."
She knew it was his wolf's influence confusing things, but she couldn't afford to have the line blurred when half the palace was watching.
Politically? It was poison.
Already she'd caught courtiers whispering near the tapestries and in the alcoves. Brad at the Queen's side. Brad shadowing her steps. Brad, who used to be her mate. Every movement was compromising no matter how firmly she rejected him.
Maeve was savage about it.
"You do realize Adam's going to go nuclear the second he walks in and sees this, right? Forget diplomacy...he'll go straight for Brad's throat. Honestly, I might get popcorn."
Ann pinched the bridge of her nose.
"I don't have the patience."
"Then stop pretending it's not a problem," Maeve shot back. "Nobles smell gossip like blood in the water, and Adam smells Brad like a challenge. You're sitting on a powder keg, and guess what...you're the fucking match."
Exhaustion seemed to cling to her endlessly. The nights were restless, the days relentless.
She started pushing more work onto Coral and Eva just to keep her own hands free.
Coral took it in her stride, juggling schedules and rations like she'd been born with a clipboard and maintaining her cheerful demeanour at every encounter.
Eva was quieter about it, but as efficient as ever, moving patrol reports and writ drafts through her hands with precision and efficiency.
"You're both more than capable," Ann told them when Eva raised an eyebrow at the extra load.
"Translation," Coral said dryly, "Her Majesty's too tired to throttle nobles today, so we get to do it for her."
Ann muttered into her tea. "Exactly."
But even with them propping her up, Brad's shadow lingered. He was too close. Brad's shadow followed her into the next day.
Not literally at her heel...he kept the polite two paces...but close enough that every time Ann turned, there he was.
And the palace noticed.
In court that afternoon, the murmurs didn't bother hiding. Whispers had shifted into bolder remarks now, the nobles circling like they could already smell blood.
"An Alpha at the Queen's side is hardly improper."
"If anything, it projects strength."
"…strength or scandal, it really depends on the angle."
Ann ground her teeth through it. Every step she took, she could feel eyes sliding to Brad, weighing him, weighing her, keeping count of every movement as if the palace ledger could spit out a verdict for them...
"You think yesterday was messy...wait until your mate comes home to find your ex playing watchdog in the gardens."
Brad took up his post...two steps behind, silent and steady...and the air shifted like every noble in the gallery leaned in closer.
"Your Majesty," Lord Darron said with mock deference, "your guard dog seems very… loyal." His glance over her shoulder was pointed enough to draw a few titters.
Ann's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Better a loyal dog than a disloyal lord."
That shut him up. For the moment.
But the questions kept circling: Would Brad remain stationed with her? Was this a new arrangement? Was the palace signaling something...perhaps a reconciliation?
Ann gave them nothing and pushed them through the afternoon agenda.
By the time the chamber cleared, her patience was shredded thin.
She shut the door on the last departing robe and leaned back against the wood, eyes closed.
"They don't even care what's true," she muttered.
Maeve's laugh was sharp.
Of course not. The truth is boring. Scandal tastes better. And right now, you're serving them a banquet.
Ann's fists clenched.
"I can't keep explaining what he isn't. They'll twist it anyway."
"Then stop explaining. Let them choke on their own stories. Adam will deal with Brad when he gets back, and you'll deal with the nobles until then."
"And if Adam snaps?"
"Then I get a front row seat, and Brad gets a short obituary."
Ann dragged a hand down her face.
"That's not a particularly comforting thought."
Maeve's grin was practically audible.
That night, Brad lingered outside her chamber doors while she paced inside, restless. He hadn't tried to speak to her again, not since she'd cut him down.
He didn't need to. His silence was louder than words.