Chapter 43
The sky is still dim when I arrive at the training grounds. Bianca trails a few steps behind me, quiet for once. She’s dressed appropriately, leggings, a fitted jacket, her hair tied back in a high braid that swings like a metronome with each step. She walks like someone with something to prove. For someone who once declared combat “uncivilized,” she looks almost determined. Almost like she belongs.
It’s the first time she’s joining the wolves’ combat rotation. Not just the private sessions arranged to spare her from bruises and embarrassment. This is the real thing sparring with wolves who’ve fought beside each other for years and trained through blood, sweat, and repetition.
Prince Kaine said it was time she joined the rest of us. He assigned me to ease her in. I still don’t know if that’s a punishment or a test. Maybe both.
I stop just short of the chalk line marking the warm up circle and glance over my shoulder. Her eyes are fixed ahead, jaw clenched. She’s not talking. She’s not smiling.
“We’ll start with drills,” I say, keeping my tone professional. “Warm up, stance review, paired sparring. Try to keep up.”
Bianca only nods. No complaints. No sighs. No snide comments about my tone or how ‘ungraceful’ the drills look. That alone makes me pause, just for a breath.
The air fills with grunts and the soft crunch of boots against cold ground. The sound is steady, grounding. Bianca slots in at the end of the second row, just behind a pair of lieutenants. She mirrors the motions as best she can.
She’s lower than the rest, but focused. Intent. She moves like someone who has memorized the shapes of these drills but hasn’t yet worn them into muscle memory.
I catch a few glances thrown her way. Some curious. Others cautious.
One wolf falters mid-pivot, clearly debating whether to partner with her. No one’s quite sure how to handle the future Luna. I can see the hesitation building by the time we reach the sparring portion.
Some of the wolves shuffle their feet, avoiding her eyes. A few glance toward me, waiting for guidance I don’t feel like giving.
“You’re with me,” I say, turning toward Bianca. She steps into position without argument. Her jaw is tight. Her shoulders, too.
Her footing is solid. Not perfect, but practiced. She’s memorized the drills, that much is obvious. She moves with care, every block and counter measured.
I don’t press too hard, but I don’t coddle her either. Her eyes narrow with each pass. She’s trying to look effortless, but she’s working. Hard. Her knuckles are already pink from tension.
Her arms strain to match the tempo. She adjusts her stance after each exchange, just slightly. She remembers corrections. She anticipates feints.
It’s strange seeing her like this, grounded, focused, serious. While it isn’t graceful, it isn’t bad. She’s more capable than I expected. Not impressive, not yet, but she’s been paying attention.
We break briefly to reset stances, and I feel it. The shift.
A flicker of awareness tightens the air like a taut wire. Wolves stand straighter. Muscles tighten. I don’t have to turn around to know Prince Kaine has arrived.
His presence settles across the field like weight. I keep my back to him. Bianca adjusts her grip, but her eyes flick in his direction. Just for a second. Then she resets.
“Your weight’s too far forward,” I say under my breath. “It’s throwing off your pivot.”
She shifts again, but doesn’t respond. The next sequence is cleaner. She lands her counters on time.
I can see her calculating each move in real time, her mind working faster than her instincts. Not good enough for a guard, but not embarrassing.
We run through the final round of drills, Bianca clearly running out of steam. She steps back, brushing her forehead with her sleeve, then moves toward the water canisters without another word.
A few wolves watch her go but say nothing. They seem... surprised. I can’t blame them.
I move to help some junior guards down the line, offering brief corrections and silent nods. My voice stays steady as I adjust shoulders, point out openings.
Prince Kaine doesn’t speak. He stands at the edge of the field, arms crossed, watching. His gaze moves slowly across the sparring pairs, until it lands on me.
I don’t meet it. I keep walking.
Kaine is watching her.
Bianca straightens her shoulders, breathes in slow through her nose, and lets her face remain calm as she tosses her empty water cup into the bin. She doesn’t look back. Doesn’t need to. His gaze hasn’t shifted since he arrived.
She wipes her hands on the edge of her jacket and steps away from the field. The knot in her braid has loosened slightly, but she doesn’t fix it.
She wants to look like she’s been working. Like she belongs here too. By the time she reaches the edge of the field where Kaine had been watching, he has already turned and started back toward the palace doors.
She quickens her pace to catch up. Not too fast. Not eager. Just enough.
“Morning,” she says lightly, falling into step beside him. Her voice is smooth, laced with warmth she’s practiced a hundred times. It sounds easy. Effortless.
Kaine glances at her but says nothing.
“She’s gotten strong, hasn’t she?” Bianca nods back toward the grounds. “I used to think she’d never find her place here.”
His expression doesn’t change. His eyes stay fixed ahead.
“For the longest time, I hoped she’d come home,” Bianca continues. Her voice is soft, almost nostalgic. “Find her mate. Settle down. Something simpler. Something quieter.”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t walk away either.
“But I suppose this suits her better,” she adds, voice still smooth. “Being among soldiers. She was never one to care much for what I or anyone else thought was proper.”
Still nothing.
She lets out a breathy laugh. “I’m glad, though. Truly. I used to worry about her. She doesn’t always make things easy for herself.”
Kaine’s gaze flicks past her, back toward the training field. Ember stands near two younger guards, correcting one of their stances.
Her posture is confident, her voice low and firm. There’s a flicker of animation in her eyes. Bianca follows his gaze, her smile lingering even as her fingers unconsciously curl into fists.
“She’s always been a little wild,” she says. “Rough and tumble. Never quite fit in with the rest of us.” Her tone is still light, but a note of sharpness winds beneath it now. “It’s a difficult thing, fitting someone like that into society.”
Kaine says nothing. But something shifts in his jaw. Barely visible, unless you’re looking.
Bianca is looking.
She lets the silence draw out, then slows her pace. “Well. I’ll leave you to it.”
He nods, once. He’s stopped moving and is looking back at the training field. She turns, heading back toward the palace without glancing over her shoulder.
She doesn’t need to.
She said what she needed to say. Enough to remind him of what Ember is, and what she isn’t. Enough to raise questions.
Even planting the idea is enough. A whisper at the right time can echo louder than any truth.
But what Bianca doesn’t see is the way Kaine keeps watching the training field long after she’s gone. He isn’t doubting Ember.
He’s remembering the way her eyes stayed focused while every other wolf stiffened at his arrival. The way she didn’t flinch under pressure. The way she corrected her partner’s stance without hesitation, even when that partner was the future Luna.
He doesn’t see a guard pretending to belong. He sees a guard who already does, and nothing Bianca says can make him unsee that.
