The past week after our honeymoon had gone by in a total blur of relentless, exhausting work. I knew being the Queen would mean taking on a massive amount of responsibility, but nobody had bothered to warn me about how incredibly boring it could actually be.
Instead of dealing with grand magic or fierce territory protection, my days had been completely consumed by the tedious minutiae of pack administration. All I had been doing for seven straight days was managing kitchen budgets, handling the complex meal planning for the upcoming pack gatherings, and mapping out logistics for future event planning. Even the highly anticipated council meetings, which I thought would be full of gripping political strategy, had turned out to be nothing more than endless hours of listening to elders debate
