Things changed in the palace, but not in the way that I had expected. I thought my parents would put me on lock down and ship away Poison without hearing my arguments. I thought there would be guards stationed on every inch of the royal property and my horses, even the old mellow champions, would be sold while I sobbed in my bedroom. and who could blame me for such assumptions. My mom was tougher than nails and impossible to sway. On the other hand, my dad was all soft and sweet, but he never joked about my safety. I mean, my parents and I did argue over how safe Poison was, but when I explained that he simply spooked at a loud guard with no horse sense they understood- at least a little bit. My father insisted that I hire a trainer for Poison, but my mother understood that he was my pride and joy, not to be tampered with by anyone else. All my parents really did was alert the guard to be more cautious, but they were hardly breathing down my neck like I had anticipated.

The biggest change that had occurred was my self defense sessions. My mother, who had been an alpha prior to finding my father, was suddenly fed up with my lack of skills outside of a dining room or dance hall which came as quite a shock, I had never seen her lay a mean hand on anyone, and she had never thought that I would need to defend myself before. But, the night that I arrived back home she had a long discussion with my father about the grim possibilities regarding my lack of combat skills. And just like that a new self defense session had been added to my daily schedule.

And the queen was my teacher.

It was hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that my mother had ever been anything other than a queen. I could only ever remember her being in gowns with glittering crowns and adoring subjects loving her to bits. But now that we engaged in a fight outside every day I was beginning to see that she was much more than a glorified figure head. For an hour everyday she would be out of her stunning dresses and in sweat pants and baggy tee shirts with her hair slicked back in a tight pony tail. She looked far from dainty, she looked fierce and I noticed immediately that she shared a similar glint in her eye with Ryan. They were both a little wild beneath the surface.

I assumed my combat training would be similar to any other training I had received in my life. I thought that it would start out with discussing theory and form extensively. Those classroom parts made me nod off incredibly quickly, but at least I would understand what was expected. Then it would gradually escalate into demonstrations and when I felt I grasped the maneuvers enough I would be allowed to preform them in a safe, forgiving environment.

But that was not how my mother ran her training sessions. Every day I would meet her outside, just in front of the guard's training compound in suitable attire. I felt incredibly comfortable in my leggings and oversized hoodie, but I also felt very exposed considering I only wore clothing like this in the safety of my own bedroom. My mother would quickly go over what today's session would entail, then we would begin sparring, in front of all the guards and staff who cared to linger and watch.

Never in my life had I laid an aggressive hand on anyone and here I was with my mother taunting me, trying to get me to strike her. For the first few days I refused to do anything of the sort, but I quickly learned that if I didn't hit her first then she was going to be more than willing to tackle me to the ground. And it wasn't gentle wrestling, trying to get your opponent to give up their power in a struggle of dominance; it was brutal fighting that gave me bloodied noses and bruises regularly. I realized very soon that I had deeply underestimated my mother.

After the first week, I could feel myself getting stronger, quicker, and smarter when it came to fighting. And though I hated the pain and the aching muscles that came after every session I did love a lot about it. I felt more empowered and strong than I had in years. I didn't feel like a frail little flower that would wilt if rain dropped onto it. And my brain was humming all day, even though my normal mind-numbing sessions. I was more engaged than I had been in years. I felt alive with purpose and strength.

But it was much more than that. As much as I hated to admit it I had always been closer with my father. My dad was just so sweet and supportive, and from the stories I heard, he had always been like that. My mom was the tougher, more stubborn one who seemed to be less compassionate and far less affectionate. And it's not that my mom lovingly stroked my hair after we fought, but I was certainly able to see a different side of her. I got to see the alpha that defended her pack and her honour on a regular basis because her title hadn't been handed to her, like mine had. She told me stories about men who thought she couldn't carry her pack and challenged her and rogues who doubted her abilities. I saw her pride and love for her pack and I also realized how much she loved my father.

She left behind her whole world to come here with my dad. She couldn't bring her old pack and was forced to name a new alpha and luna. She had to accept the royal guards as her new pack though she knew nothing about them, and change from a tough, self-made alpha into a delicate queen who could select the right fork for salad every time. And I could understand why she behaved the way she did now. Beneath her queen exterior she was still a tough alpha, but she tried to hide it because she was to be a queen now, she had to be the woman my father needed.

And here I was, back at home, miles away from my own mate because I worried about what everyone else would think.

Another plus that came with my mother's training sessions was the fact that my dad stepped up too. Whenever he had a break he would call me into his office and he would explain feuds to me and we would discuss how to subdue violence and aggression between packs. He would tell me which packs were prone to attacks from rogues and which packs had a habit of attacking other packs. Sometimes, I would be quick to judge a pack for seeming irrational action, then my father would turn around and pull a book off the shelf and let me read it. He had a book recording the known history of every pack and sometimes the books validated my feelings, other times they flipped my opinions entirely.

It seemed that in a matter of a few days my parents had given up on seeing me as a child who needed to be shielded from the world and were now seeing me as an adult who needed as much exposure as possible. I was learning things that would help me control and assist the werewolf community and I was learning how to be more of a woman, less of a dependent child. And what made it all even better was that the little weasel called Preston was kept thoroughly at bay.

Things were going tremendously well for the past week and a half, though I had begun to miss Ryan deeply. Thankfully, my parents kept me very busy with all the knowledge they were throwing at me, and I hardly had time to think between all of my regular classes. However, the mate bond would not be ignored forever and with every passing day I felt the distance between us take more of an affect. Some days I didn't want to get out of bed and other days I had to force myself to stay in bed so I wouldn't go bolting right to the rogue pack that my father seemed to never mention.

Finally, I had had enough. I wanted to know more about my mate's pack. And I wanted to hear it from someone other than my mate. I didn't want to know all the cute, lovely stories Ryan could fill my head with; I wanted to know why every werewolf hated them. Why my own father who adored everyone hated his entire pack and offered no support to them. If I was going to be a fair and just queen I would have to be committed, mate or not, I would not walk into this blind.

So when my dad and I were sitting in his office alone in silence I decided to spring the question though my stomach fluttered with nerves. I didn't know if I would love or hate what I was about to hear and I feared that my father would catch on to the real reason I was asking.

"You haven't told me anything about that rogue pack, why?" I asked, trying to sound noncommittal.

My dad sighed as stared at the spines of the books lining his shelf. "That rogue pack, is hardly a pack at all, Adeline. They can't be treated like a pack because that will cause a massive uproar. Every rogue in the world will want to be treated like every other werewolf when they are nothing near normal. They are dangerous and should not be given any privileges. Being away from the pack life causes insanity, we are social creatures, we can't live without structure and personal interaction. That is why I haven't told you anything about them yet, because we are discussing how to deal with normal functioning packs until you are ready to move on to something greater and more difficult, like the haunted hollow pack." My dad's words were coated with venom and anger. I had never seen him get so angry so quickly so I let it go as best as I could and listened intently as he went on about normal packs.

Finally, we had finished our session and I was allowed to go back to my room for some much needed down time. But, of course, when I exited my father's study I was greeted by Preston.

"Are you ready to retire for the night?" he asked politely, no doubt seeing my father behind me and trying to impress him.

"Yes." I said stiffly, "You are dismissed for the night."

"Actually," my dad piped up, "can you be kind as to grab the dry cleaning out of Adeline's room, Preston?"

"Yes, of course sir." Preston said sweetly. "Come now, Princess."

I opened my mouth to protest, not ready for my vacation from Preston to end so soon, but my father had already busied himself with something else. I sighed and clamped my mouth shut before following the little rat back up to my bedroom. The instant we got inside I grabbed all of the clothes that needed dry cleaning and tossed them across his arms.

"There, that's all of them, now go, I need my rest." I barked out.

"Yes, I can see that." Preston mused, obviously eyeing bruises and cuts, "But it seems you're getting stronger." His eyes narrowed in on me, "Maybe soon you'll be strong enough to fight a rogue. Or perhaps, a whole pack of them."

**Longest chapter so far! So, who is your favorite character so far?**