Some men leave quietly. Dorian wasn’t one of them. He didn’t return to the Marell estate. He didn’t disappear into exile like most disgraced heirs. He stayed in the capital—close enough to be a shadow, just far enough to avoid arrest. Every day, another request came through back channels. A letter. A gift. A note asking to meet. And every day, I said no.
“He’s not giving up,” Jasper said, tossing the latest unopened envelope on my desk. “He’s stalling. Watching. Looking for a crack.” I didn’t touch it.
“I don’t care what he wants.”
Jasper leaned forward, voice low. “You should. Desperation makes men bold. That’s when they’re most dangerous.”
I tried to ignore the way my spine reacted to those words. I didn’t want to think about Dorian watching from a window, or slipping past guards, or what message he thought flowers or letters could still deliver. I was past all that. At least, I told myself I was. The palace felt colder that week. Tighter. Even with the new security team, I checked my windows twice. My doors three times. It wasn’t fear—it was habit. A reflex learned from too many silences with knives hiding underneath.
I turned the rose over in my hand slowly, careful not to touch the ribbon. My guard stood still, watching my face.
“Was there a note?” I asked. “No, ma’am,” he replied. “It was just there when you returned from the meeting.”
I set the flower down like it might explode. “Run the tapes. Sweep the room again. Every inch.” He nodded and disappeared, boots silent against the floor.
When Jasper returned, I didn’t look up right away. He saw it instantly. “Is that from—”
“Yes,” I said. “He got inside.”
“No one reported movement inside your chambers,” Jasper said. “He would’ve needed clearance.”
My throat tightened. “Then someone gave it to him.”
Jasper stepped closer. “We can move you. Reinforce the guards. Cut off the routes he might be using.”
“He wants me rattled,” I said. “He wants to remind me that he can still walk through walls.”
Jasper’s jaw clenched. “And what do you want?”
I looked at the rose again, its petals open, perfect, and cruel. “I want him to know he doesn’t scare me. But I also want to know how close he really got.”
Jasper sat down across from me, expression sharp. “He’s testing boundaries. He still thinks you see him as something more than a threat. That’s dangerous.”
“I don’t,” I whispered.
“Then show him that. Lock it down. Publicly. No ambiguity.”
“I’ve already rejected him. Blocked every reach.”
“Rejection only fuels men like him,” Jasper said. “They twist silence into hope. You have to end it in a way he can’t mistake.” The rose still sat between us, a quiet threat wrapped in softness. And I realized—it wasn’t love he was offering anymore. It was a warning disguised as memory.
Jasper stood up suddenly, his energy shifting from calm to cold. “I’m not going to wait until he gets close enough to leave something else on your pillow. I want full background checks on the entire palace staff. Every rotation, every vendor, every late-night entry. I want him out of hiding.”
“He won’t come out,” I said. “That’s not how he works. He wants me to unravel first.”
“Then we change the game,” Jasper said. “Let’s make him the one looking over his shoulder.” I looked at the ribbon again.
“Do you think he knows what he’s doing?” Jasper raised a brow.
“You mean does he know this is a threat?” I asked.
“Yes,” Jasper said flatly.
I sat down slowly, trying to quiet the adrenaline still humming in my blood. “Part of me still wants to believe it’s guilt. That maybe this is his way of saying sorry. In his broken, twisted way.”
Jasper didn’t sit. “And if it’s not?”
“Then I need to stop thinking like the girl who waited in the hallway.”
He nodded once, and his tone softened. “You’re not her anymore.”
“I know,” I said. “But he remembers her. And that’s what makes him dangerous.”
For a long moment, we said nothing.
Jasper finally broke the silence. “We’re going to find out how he got in. And next time he tries something like this—he won’t walk away from it.”
Later that night, after the palace dimmed and my team rotated out, I stepped into my bedroom, expecting silence. But my new guard stood there already, pale and tense, holding something out with gloved hands.
“This was found on your pillow, Lady Vane.”
A single rose. Wrapped in red silk. Tied with a Marell ribbon. Again.