Today marks the beginning of my departure from home. Prince Jorlan rises early, though he grants me the rare indulgence of extra rest. Once I wake, I start preparing. Without a trunk to my name, I use the quilt my mother gifted me. Wrapping my few belongings tightly inside, I feel a pang of embarrassment at how little I own, but there’s no other choice.

A soft knock interrupts my packing. My father peers in, his expression thoughtful. "Would you join me for a walk before it’s time?" he asks quietly.

I nod, unsure of what to expect, and follow him as he extends his arm toward me. We tread a well-worn path leading away from town. His words fill the silence. "I know your mother hopes you’ll convince the prince to reconsider dissolving the pack," he begins, his tone heavy with regret. "She shouldn’t have placed that burden on you. I’m sorry."

"I don’t think it would make a difference," I admit, my voice soft. "He’s... not the kind of man who listens."

"Kind, he is not," my father agrees, pausing to glance at me. "Still, I’ve always wished for your happiness. He may lack kindness, but he’s wealthy. At least he can provide for you in ways I never could. Maybe, in time, you’ll find yourself caring for him."

I force a weak smile, though the thought feels far-fetched. Love between us is not in the cards, but I would never let him carry that knowledge. "I hope so," I lie for his sake.

He stops walking, takes my hands in his own, and holds me close. "I’ve known this day would come," he says, his voice barely a whisper, "but that doesn’t make it any easier." He pulls a pin from his pocket—a flower-shaped piece encrusted with diamonds and purple gemstones. "This belonged to your grandmother. I held onto it, waiting for the right time to pass it on."

The pin sparkles in the sunlight, its beauty overwhelming. "You should keep this," I protest. "What if you have to sell it someday?"

He offers a reassuring smile. "We’ll manage, my princess. You’ve always been my princess," he adds as he pins it onto my collar. The gesture nearly brings me to tears.

"I don’t want to leave," I confess, my voice breaking.

"You must," he replies gently. "He’s the one wolf you cannot refuse. You’re smart, Celestine, and stronger than you know. This bond isn’t coincidence; it’s destiny. You’re meant to do something extraordinary."

Glancing over my shoulder, he stiffens. "It’s time," he says, his tone somber. "He’s waiting."

I hesitate, frozen in place. My heart aches at the finality of the moment.

"Celestine," my father says again, his voice softer this time. "This is hard, but it’s necessary. He’ll protect you and see to your safety."

"But he won’t love me," I say, my words trembling.

"Then make him," he states firmly. "You’re resilient. You’ve overcome so much—this will be no different."

From the distance, I see Jorlan checking his watch impatiently. With a resigned sigh, I force myself forward. Making him wait longer wouldn’t improve things.

Back home, Jorlan’s sharp eyes meet mine. "Where’s your luggage?" he asks curtly.

"I don’t have a trunk," I admit quietly, heat rising to my cheeks. "Everything I own is bundled in the quilt—on top of your trunk."

His calm exterior fractures momentarily as he blinks, his jaw tightening. "That’s all you brought?" he asks, his voice flat.

"It’s all I have," I whisper, ashamed.

He says no more, though his expression falters briefly before returning to its typical stoicism.

Tears flow freely as my mother clings to me, whispering that I can change his mind. I know she’s wrong. We both are painfully aware of the futility. My brothers offer hugs and good wishes, while Heliane sobs, clutching my shoulder.

"I don’t want you to go," she cries. "I can’t stand life here without you."

I force a hollow smile. "Maybe one day, we’ll be together again," I murmur, a promise I’m unlikely to keep.

At the car, my father lingers for a final moment. "You’re ready for this," he says, his tone firm though his eyes betray his emotions. "You were made for this life."

His words stay with me as he opens the car door. Jorlan stands silently behind me. Sliding into the seat, I glance back once more. My father’s hand shakes Jorlan’s with a finality that makes my chest tighten. Without fanfare, the prince joins me, shutting the door sharply.

As the car rumbles to life, I keep my gaze fixed on my lap, willing myself not to cry. Jorlan’s voice cuts through the silence. "How long have you been eating less so your sister could have more?"

I don’t reply, my fingers gripping my dress. His tone hardens. "Answer me."

"A year," I respond, barely audible. "She’s growing. Her wolf needs strength."

"And your wolf?" he presses.

I shrug, avoiding his stare. "She’s my sister."

Silently, he hands me a pristine handkerchief. It’s unexpected, and perhaps the kindest thing he’s done. "Thank you," I whisper, dabbing my tear-streaked cheeks.

The journey grows heavier as we pass the pack’s borders. "The pack will be dissolved," Jorlan announces, his tone firm. "The Alpha has failed his people too long. No one should endure such conditions. Not hunger, not poverty. It ends here."

I nod, my fears mounting. "Promise me you’ll keep my family together."

"Your brothers could thrive as warriors," he muses. "They’ve been held back. This hardship has crippled everyone."

"Can’t they grow … together?" I plead.

After a pause, he nods. "I’ll see that they stay together. Their Beta isn’t without merit. He’ll find his way in a better pack."

It’s a reluctant concession, and I recognize its weight. Maybe, just maybe, this is his way of trying.

The palace finally looms in the distance, its grandeur overwhelming. Its sheer size dwarfs my entire pack. Inside, luxury surrounds me, so foreign it scarcely feels real.

"This is your room," Jorlan states, showing me to a space that looks too perfect to be mine. With soft pink bedding and ornate furnishings, everything feels more fantasy than reality. "You have time to… adjust," he adds, his tone clipped.

Adjust to this life, or to him?

Overwhelmed, I hesitate. "Do you have nothing to say?" he demands, impatience flaring. "Do you not understand the wealth I’ve granted you?"

He snaps open a closet door, revealing rows of dresses. "Your father bargained for these," he announces. The words sting, hitting harder than expected.

I muster a quiet "thank you," though my gratitude rings hollow.

A maid enters. "Hestrel, your maid. Call on her if needed," Jorlan introduces before leaving abruptly, no goodbye offered.

I sink onto the couch, feeling adrift.

"Anything you need, Princess?" Hestrel asks gently.

"No," I reply, shaking my head.

When my blanket bundle arrives, she unfurls it quickly and efficiently. As she frowns at its contents, I brace myself for judgment. Instead, she says, "No photo of your family? I can fetch a frame."

"There isn’t one," I admit. "I’m from Aurithra Pack."

The name registers with a flicker of sympathy. "Would you like to see the dresses?"

I nod, following her. Among the dozens of gowns, one catches my eye—a replica of the one destroyed during my marking. Despite everything, that small gesture ignites a faint, fragile ember of hope.