Over the following days, she seemed driven by guilt. Every few days she would send gifts to my quarters. When I refused them, she didn't grow frustrated—she simply kept telling me about the wonderful life we would share in the future.
It wasn't until she mentioned the pup's First Moon Feast that her tone turned hesitant.
"Dorian will never be able to publicly claim his own blood-born pup. So I thought... while the little one is still too young to understand, I could let him stand openly as the father during the feast."
"It would give him some closure for his regret. Don't you think?"
My hands didn't pause in their work. I didn't even lift my gaze.
"I told you to do as you please. This pup was never mine. Whatever you choose has nothing to do with me."
Her breath caught. Red crept into her eyes—part hurt, part rising anger—and she snatched away the offerings I had prepared for Noah's memorial.
"Why have you been acting like this lately? Do you understand what it means if he attends? It means the pack will see him as the Valeheart heir-consort. You never would have allowed that before."
I paused, then gave her a bored glance.