Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 100: Chapter 100

He wanted her to tell him about the nightmares she had been having, the same one that often left her hollow just from recalling it.

But her entire being revolted at the thought of confiding in someone like him, of allowing him access to something so deeply personal.

Over the past two weeks, they had tolerated each other well enough. He was gentle and kind when it came to her, but they were not friends. They likely never would be. Not when he was the reason her family’s home lay in ruins.

Perhaps in another world, in another life, they might have formed a bond strong enough to overlook the past, a camaraderie built on mutual respect. But here, now, such a thing felt nearly impossible.

Besides, how could she even begin to explain nightmares she barely understood herself?

"Circe."

Her name, spoken so softly, tugged her back into the present. She realized she had fallen silent, lost in thought for several seconds. That in itself was strange. Circe had never felt safe enough here to let her guard down, especially not in his presence.

Ragnar was still watching her, expectant, and she knew she would have to give him something. He would never let her evade this.

"They are about my mother," she said carefully, the lie tasting bitter even as she spoke it. The woman in her dreams was not her mother.

His brows lifted slightly. "Your mother."

It was the first time she had ever mentioned her.

"She died eight years ago, just days after Rowen was born. I have found myself thinking about her often lately, perhaps the cause of the nightmares." The statement held just enough truth to mask the lie hidden within.

Ragnar held her gaze, searching for cracks in her words he would never find.

Being able to detect when a person was lying made her so good at it, she could lie through her teeth. She lied so much she sometimes forgot what was true and what was not.

Her father had been more than intrigued when he discovered her strange gift and had wasted no time in exploiting it.

If Ragnar suspected her of lying that afternoon, he never voiced it.

---

Days later, she sat alone on the terrace with a book balanced in her hands when faint commotion at the gates drifted up to her. She did not have to wait long before the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears.

"Your Highness." One of the guards bowed the moment he arrived, answering her unspoken question. "Lord Ansel Hawthorne seeks an audience with the prince."

Circe didn’t know how it had started, but lately every member of the household staff had begun deferring to her whenever Ragnar was absent.

It had both shocked and unsettled her at first when the cooks had asked what meals she preferred, and what wines should be served, as though her opinion carried weight. Stranger still was when the guards at the gates had started informing her of anyone seeking entry into the estate, something they had never done before.

Their behavior was odd. They kept her abreast of everything, big or small, treating her like she was the lady of the manor and not Ragnar’s shiny new trophy from war.

Those simple acts meant more to her than they would ever know. For the first time in months, she felt tethered, less like a stranger drifting unmoored, and more like someone with a place. Even if her contributions amounted only to household tasks, they gave her purpose.

So she didn’t question it. Just as she hadn’t questioned the small pouch of coins she had found on her pillow the morning after her race with Ragnar.

No note or an explanation of where it had come from. Just the twenty gold coins she had bargained for.

"Have you informed him the prince isn’t home?" she asked.

"Yes," the guard replied. Then a pause. "He wishes to speak to you as well."

"Is he accompanied by anyone?"

"No, Your Highness. He came alone."

"Let him in," she said at last.

The guard bowed low before departing.

Circe waited a moment before moving to meet the guest, knowing he would soon be escorted to the parlor.

"Greetings, Your Highness. I come bearing gifts." Ansel bowed the instant she entered. "I did not think you would agree to see me after all that happened."

The sharp tips of his fangs flashed as he spoke. At his side, stacked neatly atop a stool, were several wrapped boxes.

"And yet you are here." Circe said cooly, her chin lifted though she felt deeply out of place. "You were told Prince Ragnar is unavailable." freewёbnoνel.com

Ansel had his reasons for coming, of that she was sure. It was likely about what happened the night of the ball at the Hawthorne estate and his family’s desperate attempt to mend their relationship with Ragnar. No one wished to fall out of favor with a prince, bastard or not.

"I was informed," Ansel admitted. "But I also came to speak with you." He paused, drawing a steadying breath. "If you will allow me, I wish to offer my sincerest apology for what happened in my home. My mother spoke for us last time, but I will say this—we never intended for those events to unfold, and we are investigating the matter to the best of our ability."

His gaze remained downcast as he spoke, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Circe catalogued everything she observed about him—the words he chose, the way he avoided her eyes.

"I appreciate your apology. I will be sure to tell Prince Ragnar of your kind gesture."

No doubt Ansel believed that as the wife, Circe held some sway over Ragnar, but nothing could be further from the truth.

She wondered how much the Hawthorne family benefited from their ties to Ragnar, that they were desperate enough to appeal to her directly.

Ansel bowed again. "You are most gracious, Your Highness."

Circe was about to dismiss him when a thought struck her.

She approached him lightly, her expression calm though her eyes gleamed with calculation. "Where do your loyalties lie?"

It was a bold, intrusive question, but she did not care.

If he wished to use her to regain Ragnar’s favor, she saw no harm in using him in her own schemes.

Ansel stiffened at her words.

"My family’s loyalties will always be with Prince Ragnar and with the good of this kingdom," he said without hesitation.

Her lips twitched. "But that isn’t what I asked, is it?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came.

Circe took pity on him, shifting the conversation, her gentle façade peeling away to reveal the steel beneath.

"I heard you traveled widely," Her tone was light but the look in her eyes was anything but. "What is the farthest place from Lamora you’ve ever visited? And when is your next voyage?"