Chapter 10: A Permanent Reminder

"Lord Gustav, I didn't hear you approach," I said carefully.

"Clearly." He moved closer, his face coming into view. Though he appeared youthful—in his thirties—his eyes carried the weariness of five centuries. "The wolf grows bold, sending gifts already."

"The guards should have intercepted it," I replied, neither confirming nor denying my intentions with the dagger.

"Indeed, they should have." He sat beside me, moving with the graceful fluidity of our kind. "What message is he sending with such a gift, I wonder? A silver blade—does he mock us by offering a weapon against his own kind?"

I returned the dagger to its box. "Perhaps he means to show trust."

Lord Gustav's laugh was cold. "Princess, do not be deceived by these crude courtship attempts. He seeks to undermine our defenses, not win your heart."

"You sound so certain of his intentions. Didn’t you say this union could serve as a useful diplomatic opportunity?"

"A diplomatic opportunity, yes, but no more than that. I have studied werewolf maneuvers for centuries. They act on instinct more than reason. His claim on you is merely a political maneuver." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Consider this, Elizabeth: why would the border pack’s alpha suddenly decide he must have you after centuries of tension between our kinds?"

I had asked myself the same. "What are you suggesting?"

"There are rumors of unrest among the packs. Connor’s position is unstable. Claiming a vampire princess would elevate his status enormously."

The thought stung. "So, I am merely a convenient trophy?"

"Precisely." Lord Gustav nodded, pleased by my apparent concession. "Which is why, if you are not satisfied with a mere marriage of convenience, you must reject his advances entirely. Return this gift—"

"No." The word slipped out before I could hesitate.

Lord Gustav raised his eyebrows. "No?"

I recovered quickly. "It would be diplomatically unwise, as you well know. Rejecting his claim is necessary, yet returning his gift outright would be an insult too severe. We must avoid provoking unnecessary hostility."

He studied me for a long moment. "You speak like a diplomat, Elizabeth. Your mother would be proud." His tone, however, still contained doubt. "Remember—werewolves see possession of a gift as acceptance. Keeping his offering might encourage further assumptions."

"I know werewolf customs well, Lord Gustav." I closed the box, my decision resolute. "I will keep the dagger as a diplomatic courtesy, nothing more. Tomorrow I shall formally reject his claim, as planned."

Lord Gustav stood, doubt shadowing his expression. "Watch what you do, Princess. Greater matters are at stake than one wolf’s presumption or one vampire’s curiosity." He bowed slightly. "Your mother requests your presence at midnight to review the formal rejection."

"I'll be there."

He lingered a moment longer. "Be cautious, Elizabeth. Curiosity about their kind has led others to ruin. You are not the first vampire ensnared by their primal allure."

With that parting warning, he walked away, his steps silent on the stone path.

Once I was sure he was gone, I reopened the box and retrieved the dagger. The note mentioned protection against enemies. Was the blade enchanted in ways I could scarcely imagine? Such rare, potent magic was usually reserved for pack alphas and their closest guardians.

Turning the dagger over, I discovered a hidden detail beneath the hilt wrapping—a tiny gemstone set into the pommel, which, on closer inspection, turned out to be a small vial containing what appeared to be blood. Connor’s blood?

The thought was both disturbing and strangely intimate. Among vampires, the sharing of blood was sacred—a token exchanged only among lovers or the truly bound. Did werewolves share such beliefs, or was this another cultural misunderstanding?

I knew I could not keep the dagger openly. Lord Gustav was right—it would be seen as acceptance of Connor’s advances. Still, I was unwilling to part with it. I carefully concealed the dagger in the secret pocket sewn into my gown—a modification made after an assassination attempt a century ago. Its weight against my thigh served as a comforting reminder of the dangerous tie it represented.

I buried the empty box beneath a rosebush, quickly digging into the soft, cool soil with my bare hands. The damp earth sharply contrasted with the sterile perfection of court life, grounding me in this moment of concealed rebellion.

As I patted the earth back into place, I wondered what Connor would think if he saw me now—a vampire princess on her knees in the dirt, furtively hiding his gift as though it were a guilty secret. The thought brought an unexpected smile to my lips.

Tomorrow, in public, I would reject him as duty demanded. But the dagger would remain with me—hidden yet ever-present, a tangible reminder of the choice I was making and the path I refused to follow. Like the blade itself, my feelings for Connor were double-edged—dangerous yet compelling, forbidden yet impossible to discard completely.

Night had fully descended by then. I brushed the dirt from my hands and rose, aware I must prepare for the council meeting. Yet I lingered a moment longer in my garden sanctuary, pondering what Connor might be doing at this very instant. Had he anticipated my reaction to his gift? Was he watching from the shadows, or so confident in his claim that he cared not to observe its effects?

One thing was certain—with this gift, he had ensured I would not forget him, no matter the words of rejection spoken tomorrow.