Bianca's POV

It's been a few days since I arrived at the castle, and I'm starting to feel more at ease within its walls. The sprawling stone corridors, once intimidating and cold, are now becoming familiar paths. Cane and I have been bonding more, spending time together and getting to know each other. His easy smile and quiet strength have been a comforting presence, guiding me through the maze-like halls and introducing me to the nuances of royal life. Ashton, the royal beta and Cane's closest friend, has also been a frequent companion. His laid-back demeanor and quick wit provide a refreshing counterbalance to the more formal members of the court.

I had yet to meet King Charles. His absence was a topic of conversation among the castle staff. An emergency had called him away but he was due to arrive back today.

In the meantime, I had gotten to know the three she-wolves assigned to be my maidservants. They were a lively trio, each with her own unique charm, and they quickly became some of my closest confidants in the castle—Madeline, Klaresa, and Joanna—were kind and helpful, always ready with a warm smile or a tidbit of gossip.

Madeline, with her fiery red hair and quick temper, was always the first to speak her mind. Klaresa, tall and willowy with a soft-spoken demeanor, was more reserved but had a sharp wit that surfaced in quiet moments. Joanna, the youngest with dark curls and bright, curious eyes, was the most eager to please, always fluttering around with a nervous energy.

I made my way down to the kitchen, my steps echoing softly in the castle's grand hallways. The morning sun streamed through the tall, arched windows, casting a warm golden hue across the stone floors. The scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon filled the air, drawing me in. The kitchen was quickly becoming my favorite place in the castle—a cozy haven amid the grandeur, a place that felt like home.

As I stepped inside, I saw Ashton already there, leaning casually against the kitchen island with a mug of coffee in hand. He looked up, and his dark eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he teased with a lazy grin. "I was starting to think you'd sleep the day away."

I rolled my eyes, grabbing a bowl and filling it with oatmeal. "Good morning to you too, Ashton," I replied, "and for your information, some of us need our beauty sleep."

Ashton chuckled, the sound deep and familiar, almost comforting. "You could have fooled me. You look like you've been up all night worrying, maybe about meeting a certain king." He teased.

I shrugged, adding a drizzle of honey and a handful of fresh berries to my oatmeal. "Not all night," I admitted, sitting down at the long wooden table. "Just most of it."

He joined me at the table, setting his coffee down. "You'll be fine," he reassured me, his tone softer. "King Charles is a tough guy, but he's kind. I should know he's like a second father to me. Besides, anyone who's got Emiline as a sister can handle anything."

I smiled, appreciating the mention of my sister—Ashton's mate. His eyes softened at the mention of her, and I could see the longing there. "Have you heard from her?" I asked gently.

He nodded, but his smile was tinged with frustration. "Yeah, I called her last night before we went to bed. She's going on some stupid trip with her anthropology class to visit some ruins." He sighed, his expression darkening. "I just want her to come home already."

I noticed a flicker of jealousy in his eyes, something that hadn't been there before. "You're not a fan of her professor, are you?" I guessed, trying to keep my tone light.

Ashton snorted. "That guy... he's too interested in her, always finding reasons to keep her late or ask her to join these extra trips. It drives me crazy." His voice softened, and I could hear the genuine concern there. "I know it's just a stupid crush on his part, but still... I don't like it. I miss her."

I'd heard about the anthropology teacher before. This was the second time Emiline had taken one of his courses. Before she met Ashton she always mentioned how she found her anthropology professor quite handsome. I think Ashton knows that too, and it's eating him up. Emiline's descriptions were always filled with little details—his piercing green eyes, his rugged, adventurous demeanor, and the way he could captivate a room with his stories about ancient ruins and lost civilizations. And now, knowing Ashton, it's clear why he's jealous. He knows he's a good-looking guy himself, but the thought of someone else catching Emilines' eye, even a professor, clearly bothers him.

I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "You're her mate, Ashton. The person who she's literally perfect for. No anthropology professor is going to change that."

He gave a small, grateful smile. "I know. I just... it's hard, being apart from her. But she'll be back soon, and then I won't have to worry about some nerdy professor trying to impress her with his knowledge of ancient ruins."

I laughed softly. "Technically, I'm a TA for that anthropology class, so you can't really blame me for her professor's attention," I said with a playful wink. "But I get it. It's hard being away from the ones you love."

A shared understanding passed between us—an unspoken bond forged by our mutual love for Emiline. I knew how much he missed her because I missed her just as much. "She's almost done, right? Just a few more weeks?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but there was a hint of eagerness in my voice.

Ashton nodded, his smile growing warmer. "Yeah, just a few more weeks. Can't come soon enough."

I felt a surge of emotion and looked down at my bowl, stirring my oatmeal absently. "I miss her too," I said softly. "But I'm glad she has you looking out for her."

Ashton looked at me with a goofy grin. "Aw thanks sis."

I let out a laugh. "Have you seen Cane this morning?" I asked, trying to change the subject, though my cheeks still felt warm from the shared sentiment.

Ashton leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs, a mischievous grin on his face. "He left early with his mom to greet his dad at the airport. They should be back soon. He didn't want to wake you; said you needed the rest."

My heart fluttered at Cane's thoughtfulness. "He's always so considerate," I murmured, a small smile on my lips.

Ashton smirked. "He's a softie when it comes to you," he teased.

I laughed, shaking my head. "I know."

"You know," Ashton said, setting his coffee mug down with a thud, "if you want to feel more at home, you should join me for a sparring session. I know you grew up a warrior. A good fight might help shake off some of that castle rust."

The idea sparked excitement in me. It had been too long since I'd had a proper sparring match. "You know, that actually sounds perfect," I said, my eyes lighting up.

"Great," Ashton grinned. "Finish up, and I'll meet you downstairs in the training yard. And don't keep me waiting," he added with a wink, heading for the door.

I laughed as I watched him go, feeling a rush of warmth and gratitude. Ashton was right—a good sparring session would help me feel more at home. I quickly finished my oatmeal, practically jumping out of my chair in my eagerness to join him.

As I hurried down the stairs to the training grounds, my heart pounded with anticipation. The crisp morning air brushed against my face, and I could feel the familiar adrenaline rush that came before a good fight. I was ready.

When I reached the training yard, Ashton was already there, stretching and warming up. His long black hair was tied back into a bun, and he looked every bit the warrior—strong, confident, and poised.

"Let's see what you've got, Goldilocks," Ashton smirked, taking his stance. He bent his knees slightly, both hands balled into firm fists as he brought them up to his face.

I mirrored his stance, my muscles tensing with anticipation. "Don't go easy on me," I warned with a grin.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he shot back, eyes gleaming with challenge.

We began circling each other, each step measured and careful. The training mat was cool under my bare feet, and I felt a familiar thrill as Ashton made the first move—a quick jab aimed at my shoulder. I dodged easily, countering with a swift kick that he blocked with his forearm.

"Look at that, you're pretty rusty," Ashton taunted, a playful glint in his eyes.

I laughed, narrowly dodging another jab. "Or maybe I'm just warming up."

The spar continued, our movements fluid and almost dance-like. I felt alive, my senses heightened, every muscle in my body attuned to the rhythm of our sparring.

"Don't hurt him too much, Bia," Cane's voice called out from above. I glanced up briefly, my heart fluttering at the sound. He stood on the balcony overlooking the training grounds, a bemused expression on his face.

Distracted, I barely dodged Ashton's next attack, and he grinned. "Look at that I guess Love is your weakness," he teased.

I rolled my eyes, focusing back on the fight. We exchanged a few more blows, each of us landing a hit here and there. I could feel the burn in my muscles, but it was a good burn—a reminder that I was alive, strong, and capable.

Ashton finally stepped back, panting slightly. "I'm surprised you lasted that long," he said, wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead. "I even broke a sweat."

I smirked, lowering my guard. "I could say the same about you."

Ashton grinned and extended his hand. "Good match."

I took his hand, but instead of shaking it, I quickly shifted my weight and flipped him over, catching him off guard. He hit the mat with a surprised grunt, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"That was a cheap shot," he groaned, though he was grinning.

"You said rule number one was never to underestimate your opponent," I pointed out with a giggle.

From above, a booming laugh filled the room. "She got you, Ashton," a deep voice said. I looked up to see a man standing next to Cane—older, with a beard sprinkled with gray and a commanding presence. There was a striking resemblance to Cane, though the man's face was more angular, with prominent cheekbones and a more weathered appearance.

Ashton quickly bowed, and I followed suit, afraid to make a bad impression.

"Rise," the man said calmly, a hint of laughter in his voice. His gaze fell upon me, and a playful smile curved his lips. "Well if it isn't my future daughter. I look forward to meeting you properly. I have matters to attend to with my son, but I will see both of you at dinner."

With that, he turned and exited, Cane following close behind, his expression unreadable.

I turned to Ashton, still feeling a bit dazed. "Was that King Charles?"

Ashton nodded, a grin tugging at his lips. "Yep, that was him. Very blunt, huh?"

"Something like that," I chuckled, still feeling nervous. "I guess we should both go get ready for dinner."

"Yeah, good match," Ashton said, extending his hand for me to shake. As I took his hand, he suddenly flipped me, sending me sprawling to the mat. I groaned, and Ashton laughed.

"Now we are even."

I went to the bathroom to shower, the water soothing my muscles. I took my time, letting the steam envelop me and wash away the remnants of our sparring match. As I finished up and started drying off, I heard a knock on the door.

"My princess," Joanna's voice called from the other side.

"Come in," I replied, adding with a laugh, "and Bianca is just fine!"

The door opened, and Joanna, along with Madeline and Klaresa, stepped into the room. They held a stunning black dress between them, their smiles warm and excited.

"We have a dress picked out for you for dinner," Joanna said, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "This one was specially made by the queen's personal dressmaker."

I took the dress from them, and my breath caught as I saw its exquisite design. The gown was a deep, rich black, adorned with delicate floral embellishments that shimmered subtly in the light. The long sleeves were made of a sheer, flowing fabric that added an ethereal quality to the dress. The floral patterns were intricate and elegant, giving the gown a timeless beauty.

"How thoughtful," I said, genuinely touched. "It's absolutely beautiful."

The three of them beamed with pride. "We thought it would be perfect for tonight," Klaresa said softly, her gaze admiring the dress. "The embellishments are meant to complement your grace and style."

Joanna nodded enthusiastically. "And the long sleeves give it a touch of classic elegance. You're going to look amazing."

As they helped me into the gown, Madeline and Joanna began working on my hair. They brushed and styled it with expert hands, letting my curls fall beautifully around my shoulders and frame my face. The attention to detail was evident as they meticulously arranged each curl, ensuring that every strand was in place.

Klaresa applied a subtle touch of cold eyeshadow to my lids, enhancing the blue of my eyes and making them pop. The makeup was understated yet elegant, perfectly complementing the dress and adding to the overall sophisticated look.

As they worked, they chatted with me about what to expect for the evening. "The king is very kind, though he can be a little tough sometimes," Madeline said, her tone reassuring. "He has a bit of a sarcastic streak, but if you're yourself, he'll love you."

Klaresa nodded in agreement. "King Charles was raised very differently from how he reigns now. His own father was quite tough and harsh. King Charles tried to be the opposite—kind and patient. But he still has a tendency to make jokes and be a bit sarcastic about people and things, often just to lighten the mood."

I listened intently, feeling a surge of gratitude for their kindness. "Thank you all so much," I said, my voice sincere. "Your support and advice have really made me feel so welcome here. It's so different from what I imagined, and your warmth had made it so much easier to just be myself."

The maidservants exchanged pleased glances, their smiles reflecting their genuine care. "We're glad to hear that," Madeline said softly. "We want you to feel at home."

I took a deep breath, feeling both excited and nervous. "This world of royalty is all new to me. I want to make a good impression, but sometimes I feel out of my depth."

Klaresa placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Just be yourself. That's all anyone here will ever ask of you."

As my maidservants left the room, I stood alone in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at me was almost unrecognizable—a polished, meticulously put-together version of myself. It felt like I was looking at a character out of a storybook, not the person I had known all my life.

I touched the smooth fabric of the gown, running my fingers over the delicate embellishments, and marveled at how different I looked. The girl who had once been comfortable in simple clothes, with unruly hair and a carefree demeanor, seemed like a distant memory.

Here I was, transformed into someone who belonged in this world of elegance and grandeur. It was a strange feeling, seeing myself through this lens of refinement and grace. I didn't fully recognize this version of me, but I hoped that as I stepped into this new role, I would find my place and make this world my own.

As I descended the grand staircase towards the dining room, I carefully placed each step, trying to maintain my balance in the delicate heels that seemed to challenge my every move. The gown flowed around me like a dark, floral waterfall, and I felt both elegant and awkward as I navigated the steps. Cane had shown me this path before, but tonight, the journey felt different—laden with anticipation and a hint of nervousness.

At the bottom of the stairs, just before I reached the dining room doors, I spotted a mirror on the wall. I hesitated, feeling a flutter of anxiety. I approached the mirror and, taking a deep breath, practiced my curtsy. I wanted it to be perfect.

I was so focused on perfecting the gesture that I didn't notice Cane approaching. When he finally spoke, his voice was warm and full of admiration. "You look beautiful," he said, and I felt a gentle kiss on my cheek.

My wolf went crazy yipping happily that our mate was finally here with us.

I smiled, feeling weight lift from me, I turned to face him, and his smile was like a beacon in the dimly lit corridor. "I'm so sorry I haven't had a chance to speak with you today properly," Cane said, his expression a mix of regret and affection. "It's been hard not being able to talk to you. I've been busy with my dad, and it's been weighing on me."

I gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Cane. Don't worry about it. I understand." I reached out, pulling him into a comforting hug.

He held me close, his arms strong and reassuring. "Don't be nervous at all," he said, his voice soothing. "My dad is just a big goofball. He'll love you, I promise."

I let out a small laugh, feeling a bit of the tension lift. "I feel like a doll tonight," I confessed. "I've never felt so perfect, so polished. It's almost like I don't recognize myself."

Cane's smile widened, and he took a step closer, his fingers gently running through my hair. He mussed up my curls slightly, his touch both tender and playful. "You look beautiful, whether you're covered in dirt or perfectly polished," he said with a soft chuckle.

The slight disarray in my hair, now a bit tousled from his touch, made me smile. I felt more like myself, even in this elegant attire. Cane's affection and his honest words made me feel at ease.

As Cane and I walked hand in hand into the grand dining room, my heart raced with anticipation. The room was elegant, the long table set with gleaming silverware and fine china. At the head of the table sat King Charles, his presence commanding and regal. To his right was his wife, a vision of grace and warmth. Ashton was seated at the table as well, his familiar presence a small comfort amid the newness.

Feeling the weight of the moment, I tightened my grip on Cane's hand. He immediately responded with a reassuring squeeze, his eyes meeting mine with a calming smile. The gesture comforted me, grounding me as we approached the table. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

"Hello," I said, my voice steady as I offered a polite curtsy, my gown swishing softly around me.

Cane's mother, Sylvia, rose gracefully from her seat, a welcoming smile on her face. She walked toward me with open arms, and as she pulled me into a tight embrace, I felt a wave of warmth and kindness.

"It's great to see you, darling," she said, her voice filled with genuine affection. "You look beautiful."

I returned her hug, feeling a bit more at ease. "Thank you so much. You look beautiful as well."

As she stepped back, King Charles stood up from his seat, his imposing stature momentarily intimidating. But then he broke into a wide, friendly smile that immediately softened his features. The warmth of his smile reminded me of my own father, easing my nerves.

He approached and enveloped me in a tight, fatherly hug. "Welcome to the family," he said, his voice sincere. "You're beautiful."

The embrace was heartfelt and reassuring, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Ashton, who had been observing with a supportive smile, stood up and joined us.

"Glad you're here," Ashton said warmly, giving me a friendly nod. "It's good to see you fitting in so well."

As we enjoyed dinner, King Charles leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest.

"So, Bianca," he began, his tone friendly, "tell me more about yourself. I'd love to know about your family and your life before coming here."

I smiled, feeling the warmth of the family's hospitality. "Well, I have an older sister, Emiline, who is currently studying in London. She's actually Ashton's mate," I added with a grin. "And I have two younger brothers, Carson and Philip, back home. Growing up, I was always very close to them."

King Charles nodded, clearly intrigued. "And I understand you grew up as a pack warrior. What was that like?"

"It was quite the adventure," I replied, my eyes lighting up at the memories. "I started training when I was around six years old. I loved school, but I was always more interested in being outside and playing sports. My dad was the trainer for all the warriors in our pack, so I would often run alongside them, even as a little girl I would leave these grown warriors who had been training for years in the dust." I let out a light chuckle making everyone at the table smile.

King Charles leaned in, fascinated. "I imagine that was quite the sight. How old were you when you really began to make an impression?"

I chuckled, reminiscing about my early days. "By the age of eleven, I was out running pretty much every one."

The king's eyes widened in admiration. "That's impressive. How was your shifting?"

I smiled, recalling those formative years. "It was pretty easy, every one had always told me horror stories about the first shift." I took a quick sip of some of the juice. "Mine was more uncomfortable rather than painful."

King Charles looked genuinely impressed, his expression softening with pride. "I must say, Bianca, I'm deeply impressed."

I felt a flush of warmth at his words, the sincerity in his tone making me feel even more welcomed. "Thank you king, Charles that means a lot."

He smiled kindly, raising his glass towards me. "I can't wait to see what strong grandpups you two give me" I nearly choked on my food when the words left his lips, but king Charles kept speaking. "I'm also curious to see how you'll handle your first shift as a Lycan."

The words hung in the air, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Sylvia's face flushed with embarrassment, and she palmed her forehead with a look of exasperation. Cane's hand trembled so much that his fork clattered to the floor. Ashton, seated nearby, cleared his throat awkwardly, his gaze darting between the king and me.

"Charles, now is not the time for that," Sylvia scolded, her tone firm and annoyed at her mate.

I looked around, confusion clear on my face. "Um, sorry, what?"

Ignoring his wife's reprimand, Charles continued, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "When Cane marks you, your body will undergo a new shifting process. This time, it will transform you into a Lycan, not just a wolf. And you'll be officially one of us, once the lycan blood flows through you."

I stayed silent, not knowing what to say. The weight of his words hung heavily over me. Ashton, sensing the discomfort, quickly jumped in to change the topic.

"Well," he said, trying to lighten the mood, "Bianca practically kicked my ass during sparring today. She's incredibly strong."

I glanced over at Ashton, a grateful smile crossing my face. "Thank you," I mouthed silently. Cane shot me an apologetic look, as if to say, I'm so sorry, my family is so weird. I returned his gaze with a reassuring smile. "It's okay," I said softly. "It actually makes me feel more welcome."

The conversation soon shifted to lighter topics as the evening progressed. We talked and laughed, the earlier tension slowly dissipating.

Yet, as the night wore on and the laughter continued, a part of me remained preoccupied. In the back of my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about the daunting process ahead—how I was going to turn into a full-blown Lycan.