It arrived in silence.
No knock.
No footfall.
Just a velvet-wrapped box laid at the foot of her door, tied with a crimson thread and sealed with a wax emblem she didn't recognize.
Elara hesitated.
Then picked it up.
The velvet was cold.
The seal melted to her touch.
Inside—
A bouquet.
Dead, but perfectly preserved.
Flowers twisted like veins, petals the color of drying blood, with stamens tipped in silver.
A faint perfume still lingered—smoky, bittersweet, and familiar.
Not just familiar.
Sacred.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Because even if she didn't recognize the exact species, the way the stems curled, the way the roots had been bound in a thin iron band—
She knew this wasn't just a flower.
It was a message.
Kael stormed into the room twenty minutes later.
He didn't knock.
Didn't speak at first.
Just stared at the box now sitting open on the windowsill, the bouquet glinting in moonlight.
Elara watched him from across the room.
"I assume you know what it is," she said.
He nodded once.
His jaw clenched.
"Bloodvine," he said. "Rare. Difficult to find. Symbol of irrevocable pledge."
"Used for what?"
Kael's eyes didn't leave the bouquet.
"Weddings."
"Weddings," Elara repeated softly.
"Yes."
"In wolf culture?"
"In my house," he said. "Specifically."
She walked slowly to the window.
"And someone sent this to me anonymously."
"Yes."
"And you're angry."
"Yes."
"Because I'm not your wife?"
Kael turned to her at last.
"No," he said. "Because someone else wants to make you one."
Silence stretched between them.
The fire cracked softly in the hearth.
Then Kael stepped forward.
"You want to know how wolves ward off suitors?"
"I have a guess."
He reached for her.
"Turn around."
"Why?"
"I'm not giving you a ring," he said. "I'm giving you a vow."
"A silent one?"
He didn't answer.
So she turned.
Slowly.
Felt the heat of his body behind her.
He pulled down the back of her collar.
Her spine tensed.
Kael's fingers pressed against her bare skin.
And then—
A whisper.
Not in Common.
But in something older.
Rough.
Snarled.
Feral.
The sound made her muscles twitch.
Her breath catch.
The language didn't just move through the air—it carved it.
Ancient wolf-tongue.
She didn't know the words.
But her skin understood them.
Felt them.
Branded them.
Heat blossomed along her back.
Her shoulder blade.
Her spine.
The words weren't spoken.
They were etched.
Like claws dragged across her soul.
When he stepped back, she turned.
"What did you say?"
Kael met her eyes.
"I said: 'He who touches her forfeits lineage. He who claims her forfeits throne. I who vow to her shall vow to none other.'"
Elara's throat tightened.
"That's not a flirtation."
"It's a binding."
"I didn't ask for this."
"You didn't have to."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Then tell me the truth," she said. "Did you vow this for me… or for them?"
He blinked.
"What?"
"You marked me. Out of instinct? Or to keep them away?"
"I—"
"You branded my back to prove I'm yours," she said, voice rising. "But did you ask if I wanted to be?"
Kael said nothing.
"You made your love into a weapon," she said. "Congratulations. You just made me part of your arsenal."
She turned toward the fire.
But Kael's voice stopped her.
"No," he said.
She looked back.
His eyes burned.
"I made you part of my shield."
He left.
Not in anger.
Not in fear.
But in silence.
That night, she bathed slowly.
And when she looked over her shoulder in the mirror—
There it was.
Faint.
But glowing.
A line of looping characters across her shoulder blades, like flame sewn into skin.
A vow.
A mark.
A warning.
She didn't sleep.
Instead, she placed the bouquet back in the box.
Sealed it.
Walked to the fire.
And dropped it in.
The flames consumed it.
The perfume twisted with smoke.
And she whispered into the dark:
"I am not a prize."