Chapter 41 - The Empty Barrel
1009 Words
Anthony caught himself staring through the window.
Outside, beyond the stone terrace, the orchard stretched across the gentle slope of the estate. The evening sun filtered through the trees, painting the ground in warm shades of gold and green.
Two figures were walking back from the orchard.
Florence.
And the new gardener.
Anthony did not even realize how long he had been watching them until Sam’s voice broke the silence of the office.
“She’s remarkable.”
Anthony blinked slightly and leaned back from the window.
Sam stood by the large desk, sorting through several documents that had arrived earlier that day. The Beta held a sheet of parchment in one hand but was clearly more interested in the conversation than the paperwork.
“You were right,” Sam continued.
Anthony raised one eyebrow.
“About what?”
Sam tapped the edge of the desk thoughtfully.
“She understands antiquities exceptionally well.”
Anthony turned slightly.
Sam rarely praised anyone so openly.
“She’s already begun reorganizing the archive catalog,” Sam added.
Anthony crossed his arms.
“That quickly?”
Sam nodded.
“And she’s doing something I never thought about before.”
Anthony waited.
“She’s building a new catalog.”
Sam lifted one of the papers and handed it to him.
“A more detailed one.”
Anthony glanced at the page.
Florence’s handwriting was neat and precise, the notes carefully organized.
He nodded slowly.
“She works fast.”
Sam watched him carefully.
“And thoroughly.”
Anthony placed the paper back on the desk.
Sam hesitated.
“There’s one other thing.”
Anthony looked up.
“Her wrist.”
Anthony frowned slightly.
“What about it?”
Sam leaned against the desk.
“It didn’t heal properly.”
Anthony said nothing.
“It’s the cartilage,” Sam continued. “A small section didn’t set the way it should have.”
Anthony’s expression remained calm.
“I told her I would send a healer,” Sam added.
“And?”
“She said it wasn’t necessary.”
Anthony nodded faintly.
“That sounds like her.”
Sam studied him for a moment.
Then he noticed something.
Anthony had turned back toward the window.
He was watching the garden again.
Sam followed his gaze.
Florence and the gardener had reached the edge of the yard.
Anthony’s eyes were focused, quiet, unreadable.
Sam leaned slightly forward.
“If I didn’t know about the curse,” he said casually, “I might think you were in love.”
Anthony glanced at him.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
“We both know,” he said calmly, “that I’m as empty inside as a barrel.”
Sam nodded slowly.
He had known Anthony long enough to understand that this was not a joke.
It was simply a fact.
Anthony had never experienced emotions the way other wolves did.
Even as a child, it had been noticeable.
Sam remembered those years clearly.
The young Alpha had always struggled with things that came naturally to others.
When to comfort someone.
When to stop speaking.
When to show sympathy.
The emotions simply never arrived.
As a boy, Anthony had studied people the way scholars studied books.
Observing.
Learning.
Imitating when necessary.
Sam remembered something else as well.
There had been a time when Anthony still hoped that one day he might feel something real.
Something stronger than irritation.
Something that would break through the strange emptiness that lived inside him.
But the years had passed.
And that hope had slowly faded.
Anthony had accepted his fate.
Sam cleared his throat and pushed another document across the desk.
“Speaking of other matters,” he said.
Anthony turned away from the window.
Sam pointed to the parchment.
“A land purchase.”
Anthony picked it up and read.
“The northern territories?”
Sam nodded.
“The Alpha there has gone bankrupt.”
Anthony scanned the details quickly.
“He’s selling a portion of his forest.”
Sam watched him carefully.
“It’s a good price.”
Anthony examined the numbers again.
Then he nodded once.
“Accept it.”
Sam made a note on the document.
Anthony walked back toward the window.
Outside, Florence had already disappeared from the garden path.
The gardener remained behind.
He was kneeling beside a row of roses, working carefully with the soil.
Anthony watched him for a moment.
Then he turned back toward Sam.
“How did my mother react to Florence?”
Sam paused.
He thought about the question carefully.
“She welcomed her warmly.”
Anthony raised an eyebrow slightly.
“That’s unusual.”
Sam allowed himself a small smile.
“If I’m not mistaken,” he added, “she’s probably in town right now buying new clothes for her.”
Anthony looked mildly surprised.
“She did what?”
Sam shrugged.
“Apparently Florence arrived with only a few belongings.”
Anthony waited.
Sam smiled faintly.
“Your mother threw Florence’s suitcase back at her own family.”
Anthony blinked.
“And took her away holding nothing but a stack of books.”
Anthony nodded slowly.
“That sounds exactly like my mother.”
Sam chuckled.
The moment passed quietly.
Then there was a knock at the door.
One of the household guards stepped inside.
“Alpha,” he said respectfully.
Anthony turned.
“Yes?”
“Alpha Leonard has arrived.”
Anthony had expected it.
The alliance discussions had been moving quickly. Leonard was not the kind of man who waited long once negotiations reached their final stages.
Still…
Anthony felt a small wave of irritation rise inside him.
He had hoped for a quieter evening.
Sam noticed the expression immediately.
“Shall I send him in?”
Anthony sighed quietly.
“Yes.”
Sam moved toward the door.
Anthony turned back to the window one last time.
The garden was calm.
The evening light had begun to fade.
For a brief moment, the estate felt peaceful.
Then the door opened.
And the politics of the wolf packs stepped inside.
- Writer
