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The name suited her, of course. Druid found it easy enough to shift gears, think of her by it rather than Wealda, though she understood she was both. At least, Redd wanted to be both, though it sounded like the crown was heavy and she was struggling to bear it up.

She noticed Redd did not answer her question directly, though perhaps she considered them so intrinsically synonymous that there was no other alternative. Druid frowned thoughtfully. She didn’t believe the implication here, that a woman was only worthy if she bred, but she also knew that many followed the instinctive directive that told them only the most dominant wolves could reproduce.

It matters to you, she countered in that same quiet voice, but help me understand something: why do you want to be Wealda?

Druid truly wondered. There were many possibilities, naturally. Despite her failure to answer the question directly, maybe Redd desperately wanted children and thus needed to jealously guard the title that would permit it. Druid hadn’t missed the earlier mention of her sister, the heir, which made her wonder if there was some line of succession at play.

Her frown deepened, mismatched gaze lingering on Redd’s vulpine face. She was such a beautiful woman, with what sounded like an incredible burden. Druid’s heart drummed against her ribs. She didn’t know if she could do anything to help, besides listen, but oh how she wished she could.