A week ago, she found out she was pregnant and has been raving about it. This jeopardizes Axel's quest for the Alpha's position and puts Álvaro at an advantage.
I knew that and it saddens me. I had been putting more pressure on getting pregnant myself. Though it was selfish, I had been silently praying to the goddess that Camilla's child turned out to be a girl.
In the afternoons, Luna Ana gave us both lessons. Cooking. Hosting. Old-fashioned Luna training, she called it.
But really, it was her way of shaping us—testing which of us would endure.
Camilla whined and scoffed and left halfway through most days, always claiming a "headache" or "urgent spa appointment." I stayed. I asked questions. I cut my fingers more times than I could count, but I kept learning.
"Muy bien, María," the Luna said today, wiping her hands and examining my pastry dough. "This is almost as soft as your heart."
