Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 137: Chapter 137

Their surroundings had grown livelier as the afternoon waned. Laughter and chatter mingled with the scent of different fragrances and spices.

Circe found herself slowly beginning to admire the intricate glasswork at one stall while Nieah conversed good-naturedly with a vendor over the price of silk ribbons. Ragnar followed closely by her side, his attention split between the crowd and the two women, his presence steady and unobtrusive.

They had just begun to move toward another row of stalls when something small darted into their path.

Circe halted abruptly, nearly colliding with Ragnar’s shoulder.

A small human girl, no more than six or seven, stood before them. Her hair was a tumble of curls, her dress simple but neatly mended.

In her small hand, she held a single flower — a vibrant pink bloom with soft, velvety petals that looked far too delicate for her tiny fingers.

The child looked up at Circe shyly, eyes wide and full of wonder. Then, without a word, she extended the flower toward her.

Circe blinked, caught off guard.

"For me?" she asked softly, glancing around as though expecting someone to explain.

The girl nodded, her small face brightening with a timid smile.

Tentatively, Circe reached out and took the flower from the girl’s hand.

"Thank you," she murmured, unsure what else to say.

The little girl beamed. "You’re very beautiful," she said earnestly, her voice high-pitched and clear despite her shyness. "The children around here talk about you a lot. We are all happy to have a princess in Amris."

Circe froze, her breath catching. Warmth rose swiftly to her cheeks, blooming in a soft flush that reached her ears.

Before she could find words, a slightly older boy, perhaps the girl’s brother, appeared from the crowd.

"Come on, Lila," he said quickly, tugging at her sleeve. The girl gave Circe one last delighted smile before being led away, her laughter fading into the hum of voices around them.

Circe stood there for a moment longer, staring at the flower now resting delicately in her hand. Its petals glowed faintly in the sunlight, still warm from the child’s grasp.

Ragnar gave her a gentle nudge to get her attention.

"Come," he said quietly. "We shouldn’t linger."

She nodded, falling into step beside him again without a word. But her thoughts stayed behind with that small girl and her words, which for some reason remained stuck in Circe’s mind longer than they should have.

Nieah glanced over once to check if they were still following along, a curious look flickering across her face when she saw that Circe and Ragnar had fallen slightly behind, but she said nothing.

They were almost back to the carriage when a man’s voice called out behind them.

"Your Highness!"

All three turned. A young couple approached, their movements graceful and unhurried.

The man had a lean build and dark hair, his features softened by the polite warmth of his smile.

Beside him was a beautiful, petite woman with blond hair and an arresting countenance — the type of beauty that seemed effortless.

Ragnar’s expression shifted with faint recognition as the pair stopped and bowed respectfully.

"Your Highness," the man greeted before his gaze shifted and landed squarely on Circe.

"It’s a great pleasure to meet you. We were always at Lady Maelis’s ball, but we weren’t able to introduce ourselves that evening," the man said to Circe, straightening with a courteous smile.

He placed a hand lightly over his chest. "I am Lord Gracil Arnild, and this is my wife, Lady Mina Hawthorne."

Mina dipped her head in greeting, her soft smile lighting up her pale blue eyes. "It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Highness. We have heard so much about you."

By that, Ragnar knew she meant the rumors that had been circulating about Circe since she came into Lamora. Circe had barely interacted with high society long enough to leave a lasting impression.

Ragnar’s brow arched subtly at that, but he said nothing, choosing to remain quiet as he watched the exchange. He wanted to see how Circe would handle the situation without his interference.

Circe returned the couple’s greeting with a small nod and a polite smile of her own.

"It’s good to meet you both," she said, her voice calm though her nerves pricked faintly beneath the surface.

The four of them exchanged a short, pleasant conversation after. Just as the moment seemed to be drawing to a close, Mina’s expression brightened even further.

"It’s a pleasure meeting you, Your Highness," she said warmly. "If you would allow, I would love for you to attend a luncheon I’m hosting with a few of my friends next week. We would all be delighted to have you there."

Circe blinked, taken aback. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. The request had come so suddenly and unexpectedly. It was something she hadn’t anticipated when she had agreed to accompany Nieah that afternoon.

Princess or not, it still felt odd to be invited to a luncheon by a complete stranger.

Circe managed a small, polite smile.

"I will think on it," she said finally.

Mina’s smile didn’t falter. "Of course. I do hope you’ll come."

Gracil bowed once more, and after a few more pleasantries, the couple departed down the bustling street hand in hand.

Circe stood there for a moment, watching them disappear into the crowd. Then she turned, stepping back toward the carriage, the flower from earlier still clutched loosely in her hand.

Ragnar followed after her.

As they settled into the carriage, he spoke at last, his tone quiet but knowing. "You look troubled."

Circe hesitated, glancing down at the flower resting in her lap. "I’m just thinking," she said softly. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"About the girl," he guessed. "Or the invitation?"

Her lips curved faintly, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Both, I suppose."

She hadn’t expected to be approached by anyone today, and most especially, she hadn’t expected both interactions to be so kind and polite.

She wasn’t sure when or how exactly it happened, but watching her home being destroyed and her experience in the palace had shaped her mind to expect only the worst when it came to Lamorians.

Perhaps today was only different because Ragnar had been by her side the entire time. Both instances might have turned out differently if she had been alone and had no ties to House Acheron.

"How do you know Lord Gracil and his wife?" Circe finally asked the question that had been on her mind.

"They are both good friends of mine," Ragnar said, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Why? Are you thinking of attending the luncheon?"

"Perhaps," Circe said, averting her gaze.

She had grown up attending such events, but months away from polite social gatherings had made her ashamed to admit how strange the very thought of returning to them felt.

The fact that it was a different kingdom, with its own set of customs, only exacerbated the feeling.

Outside, the afternoon sun dipped lower as the carriage rolled onward, carrying them back toward the estate.