Tonight, I receive my dinner in the confines of my room. Prince Jorlan has arranged it this way, and I can't decide how to feel about it. Should I be relieved to avoid another awkward encounter with him, or offended that he has no interest in sharing a meal with his supposed mate?

Hestrel remains for a while as I eat, but eventually, she excuses herself. It feels inappropriate to ask her to stay since the prince hasn’t sent food for her as well. Later, she returns to prepare a bath for me. She doesn’t have to heat the water manually either, an unfamiliar convenience I’m still not accustomed to.

The palace runs on electricity, and it amazes me. I’ve never experienced anything like this, where lamps glow at the flip of a switch and water heats as if by magic. It’s so different from everything I’ve known.

Settling into the warm bath, I let the soothing water ease the tension in my muscles. Before long, I notice Hestrel hasn’t left.

“You don’t need to stay,” I tell her, somewhat awkwardly.

She hesitates before replying, “I should wash your hair, Princess.”

A laugh escapes me despite myself. “I’ve been washing my own hair for years. Is that something expected of a princess?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she says with a small nod. “The Queen’s maid does the same for her.”

I stare at her, stunned. “The queen has someone to wash her hair?”

Hestrel giggles softly. “Of course. Just as I’m here for you.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, turning to face her, my eyes wide.

“I thought you knew,” she says gently. “I’m your maid. My job is to serve you and only you. Whatever you need, just ask.”

Leaning back into the tub, I try to process her words. I have my own maid? Accepting that I'm a princess is already a challenge, but having someone dedicated to taking care of me feels even more surreal.

“Fine,” I say after a moment. “Go ahead and wash my hair. But you’ll have to teach me how to act like a princess—I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I’d be happy to,” she replies with a soft smile, pouring warm water over my hair.

I’ll admit, there’s a surprising comfort in being cared for this way. Hestrel not only washes my hair but massages my scalp and scrubs my skin with fragrant oils. It’s luxurious and unfamiliar, leaving me feeling refreshed and pampered.

Afterward, Hestrel helps me into a white nightgown, pulling it gently over my head. I push my arms through the sleeves, suppressing a chuckle at the thought of being an adult reliant on someone else to dress me.

“Thank you,” I tell her.

“Would you like the furnace kept on tonight, or would you prefer a fire?” she asks.

I blink, caught off guard by the question. “I... I don’t even know what a furnace is.” Embarrassment flushes my cheeks.

Hestrel doesn’t seem fazed. “It’s in the dungeon below the palace. We use coal, and it heats your room. It’s a newer system, but it works well.”

The idea of heat coming from such a distance feels extraordinary. Back home, winters meant piling together near the central fireplace while my father worked to keep the flames alive. The thought of someone staying awake just to ensure my comfort sits uneasily with me.

“The room feels warm enough,” I say hesitantly. “I don’t think I’ll need either. The bed looks cozy enough.”

Hestrel nods graciously before bowing her head and leaving for the night. “If you’re sure, ma’am.”

Once alone, I climb into the enormous bed. The size of the room feels exaggerated and intimidating, the wind whistling through the cracks of the large windows doesn’t help. Pulling the blanket over my head, I try to quiet the yearning in my chest. I miss home.

It wasn’t much, but our house was snug and full of warmth. Here, despite all its grandeur, the emptiness is unbearable. As the chill seeps into the air, I feel the ache of homesickness deepen. Thoughts of my mom and Heliane flutter through my mind.

I wish I knew how to link outside my pack. If I could, I’d call for Hestrel, but Jorlan hasn’t taught me how. I can’t blame him, though; I haven’t asked.

Shivering, I eventually leave the bed, bundling up my pillow and blankets. Retreating into the closet, I settle on the floor. The smaller space feels safer, warmer even, and within minutes, sleep claims me.

A sudden crash jolts me awake. Loud stomps echo through the space, accompanied by an enraged shout, “CELESTINE!”

I blink, disoriented in the pitch-black darkness. Something soft brushes against my head, and I realize I’m among clothes hanging above me. Before I can gather my thoughts, the closet door is wrenched open, revealing a furious Prince Jorlan.

He stands shirtless, clad in plaid pants, his hair a mess. His piercing gaze lands on me, his expression livid.

“What in the world, Mate?” he growls, his voice rough.

Instinctively, I clutch the blanket tighter around me, but it’s no use. He grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet with startling force. “Why are you hiding in a closet like some commoner?”

I blink at him, still groggy. The full weight of his anger slams into me as he bellows again, “CELESTINE! Answer me.”

Tears prick my eyes as I stammer, “I-I was scared.” Admitting my fear feels like exposing a wound. “The room is too big, and the wind was too loud.”

His intense gaze remains fixed on me as his breathing slows. Finally, he lets go of my arm, though his displeasure is evident.

“You’re a princess,” he states sharply. “You can’t sleep on the floor like some peasant.”

His words stoke my anger. “I am a peasant!” I snap back. “At least, I was until a few days ago. I don’t know how to live like this! I’m trying, but none of this makes sense to me!” My voice rises without restraint until I soften, ashamed of revealing how unprepared I feel.

Eyes downcast, I notice his bare feet. For a moment, it feels like we’re just two ordinary wolves instead of royalty forced together by fate.

“You said you’d give me time to adjust,” I mumble. “I’m doing the best I can. Ask Hestrel—I even let her wash my hair.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Who used to wash your hair before now?”

“I did,” I reply, exasperated.

He seems taken aback. “But you’re the daughter of a Beta.”

“I still am,” I answer defiantly. “We may have been poor, but my father is a good man.”

Jorlan’s fingers lightly grasp my chin, tilting my face up. His hold isn’t harsh this time; instead, it’s surprisingly gentle. “You are a princess now. You’ll sleep in your bed—or mine. But never again on the floor.”

I swallow hard, his authoritative tone leaving no room for argument. He releases my chin, and I nod.

“So,” he says, his voice calmer now, “where do you intend to sleep tonight?”

My gaze drops to the floor again, unwilling to meet his eyes. “With you.”

“Very well,” he replies. “I’ll arrange it. But keep this room. You’ll want somewhere to go when you’re angry at me.”