Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 194

194 The Slap That Set the Room Right 3

Arya’s POV

For a long moment after David was gone, no one moved.

Then the room came back to life all at once.

Whispers.

Looks.

Quickly hidden smiles.

One older woman chuckling into her cup.

A younger one biting her lip so hard to stop herself laughing that her shoulders shook.

Gail stood in the middle of it all with one hand still pressed to her cheek, breathing hard

enough to lift her shoulders. Then she pointed at me, trembling with anger.

“This isn’t over.”

I looked at her.

Really looked at her.

I saw the insulted pride. The bruised vanity. The shock that a whole room had watched

her lose and had not rushed to put her back together after.

Then I laughed.

Not cruelly.

Not loudly.

Just enough.

It made her face darken even more.

“You’d better watch your back,” she hissed.

I smiled wider.

“No,” I said. “You’d better watch your mouth.”

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<194 The Slap That Set the Room Right 3

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That earned another ripple of shocked laughter, and Gail finally seemed to understand

that staying another second would only make this worse for her. She turned sharply and stormed out. The door slammed behind her hard enough to rattle a nearby shelf.

Silence held for one beat.

Then the women erupted.

Not into chaos. This was not that kind of pack room. But into overlapping voices, nervous

laughter, and the kind of excitement that comes after a public correction no one expected

to witness with their own eyes.

Milley hurried back from the doorway carrying two more blanket bundles, her eyes

bright and nervous and proud all at once. Some of the women looked at me with open

caution now. Others, surprisingly many, looked relieved. Like someone had finally done

what they had all wanted to do for months but had lacked either the rank or the nerve to

try.

One older woman near the sewing table muttered, not quite quietly enough,

“Well. About time.”

Another woman shushed her, but she was smiling too.

I raised one hand.

The room settled, slowly.

“We still have work,” I said.

That helped.

Purpose gave people somewhere safer to put their feelings.

Milley came to my side first.

“I’ll sort the heavy blankets by house.”

“Good.” I reached for the top stack David had brought in. “West row first. Then the lower

family cottages. Keep the thickest ones for the houses nearest the tree line.”

She nodded at once, grateful for something clear to do.

The women moved again.

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Not the same way as before.

Different.

Lighter in some places.

More careful in others.

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As we started sorting the blankets, I moved through the room with a steadier spine than

I had entered with. I checked the folded sets, corrected the count when I saw two had

been shorted, and set aside a dozen for widows and young mothers before someone

“accidentally” redirected those to louder households.

Then I crossed to the sewing table and opened the basket of small kits we had been putting together. Needles, thread rolls, fabric scraps, thimbles, and marking chalk for the

quilt project.

The project had started as practical need and become something else.

A reason to gather.

A reason to make something instead of just endure everything.

A reason for women who had lost sons, mates, homes, or certainty to put their hands to

something warm and useful.

I picked up one of the finished kits and checked the stitching pouch.

“Well done,” I said to the woman nearest me. “These will hold.”

Her face lit up, startled by the praise.

Another woman, bolder now, asked,

“Do you want the smaller squares matched by colour or by household?”

“By household first,” I said. “Matching can wait. Warmth can’t.”

She nodded immediately.

Milley came back with the second stack of blankets and lowered her voice as she passed

“Thank you.”

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I looked at her.

“For what?”

Her eyes flicked towards the door Gail had gone through.

“For not letting her keep doing that.”

I looked at her for a long second.

There were many answers to that.

None of them simple.

Finally I said, “You were brave.”

She flushed.

“I was terrified.”

“That doesn’t cancel brave.”

Her throat moved around a small smile.

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After that, work resumed more fully. I assigned blankets, paired the sewing kits, and

directed the older women on which quilt pieces needed reinforcement and which could

be turned into wraps for children instead. The room softened around the work. Not

completely. The aftershock of what had happened still lived in every corner. But

Dragonclaw women were practical. Even scandal had to make room for need eventually.

A few of the women laughed quietly now and then, and every time Gail’s name almost

came out, they lowered their voices the moment they noticed me looking over. Not

because I had ordered silence. Because they had learned something in the last few

minutes.

Hierarchy mattered.

Backbone mattered.

And public disrespect did not go unanswered anymore. Not where I stood.

That should not have comforted me as much as it did.

But it did.

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