Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 101: Chapter 101

Ansel was taken aback by Circe’s question, his brows furrowing in confusion. Why would she want to know about his next departure?

"Do you always gawk at people like that when they ask you a question?" she asked, her tone as cool and even as it had been throughout their conversation.

Ansel swallowed hard. He was the son of a wealthy lord, the captain of his own ship, and there had rarely been a time when he had been so thoroughly disarmed by another’s boldness. But she wasn’t just anyone, she was Prince Ragnar’s wife.

"I don’t understand," he said at last, his voice low and tentative, the words meant only for her ears.

"I don’t see what could have confused you," Circe replied, her gaze pressing on him like a weight. Already, she was regretting the little she had revealed. How could he possibly help her and Rowen escape Lamora if he faltered every time she asked a simple question?

She bit back a groan of frustration. But the first step had been taken, and she refused to retreat now.

"It’s just that women don’t usually ask me about such things," Ansel admitted, attempting a smile. "And I’ve never had a princess of Lamora show such... interest. It’s enough to leave a man flustered."

Bile rose sharp in Circe’s throat at his words, her chest tightening with indignation.

Princess of Lamora.

She loathed the title. Hated that her marriage to Ragnar bound her name to the very people who had razed her home. She was no princess of Lamora. Each day she lingered here stripped fragments of her identity. She was sick of it, tired of feeling powerless.

She was Circe Alvara Valdris, daughter of Queen Thalora Valdris, and she alone would carve her fate.

Circe stepped closer, her lips curving into a beguiling smile. It was the kind of smile one might share with an old friend, but on her it was a weapon, meant to lower his guard. ƒrēewebnovel.com

"Then let me be the first," she murmured smoothly, "seeing as our houses share such close ties."

Ansel’s expression brightened, and he nodded eagerly.

"Yes. Yes, of course. I plan to set sail again in a few months, after I’ve spent some time with my family. Everyone yearns for home after so long at sea." His voice was light, blissfully unaware of the faint strain tugging at the corners of her smile.

Her lips twitched with distaste, though she was quick to mask it. His answer was useless to her. She couldn’t wait months, not when she could feel her sanity slowly fraying in this land.

"Is there a chance you could set sail sooner?" she pressed, her tone sharper now, urgency slipping through. "Perhaps in a week’s time?"

Subtlety was gone.

Ansel’s brow drew down in a frown, but before he could speak, the thunder of pounding hooves echoed from outside.

Circe’s teeth clenched. Ragnar and Casilo had returned.

When she turned back to Ansel, she found his attention had already shifted. He had realized it too.

"Well," she said lightly, her smile fixed in place. "Looks like you’ll get to speak with my husband today after all."

And just as she predicted, Ragnar appeared at the parlour’s entrance minutes later.

He had given his horse to the stable hands and came straight here, obvious from the way he hadn’t bothered to change out of his riding clothes. Circe knew his habits well and knew that he always changed after riding.

"I was told I had a visitor," Ragnar said, his gaze falling on Circe first before flicking to the other presence in the room. He wasn’t surprised to find Ansel Hawthorne standing there, only that he had come alone.

Like a man without restraint, Ragnar’s eyes returned to Circe, refusing to let go.

Only a fool would allow himself to be this captivated by a woman who so openly disliked him and Ragnar was the greatest fool of them all.

"Thank you for entertaining my guest in my absence," he said at last, the words directed at Circe.

Ansel bowed quickly as Ragnar strode to her side. Circe forced her face to remain neutral.

"Your Highness," Ansel greeted, but Ragnar seemed not to hear him.

The parlour could have been engulfed in flames and Ragnar’s attention would still not waver from Circe.

"Did you take the horse out today?" he asked, his voice lowered, as though they were the only two people in the room.

Circe shook her head.

"Mr. Hawthorne brought you gifts," she said smoothly before Ragnar could continue, cutting off whatever question he intended next.

Neither of them mentioned her earlier inquiry.

Ragnar’s lips curved faintly. "Did he?"

The Hawthornes had sent countless gifts and letters since Ragnar’s confrontation with Lady Maelis, desperate to repair what had fractured between their houses. They sought to purchase his favor, but such trinkets meant nothing when they still refused him the one thing he had demanded.

Ragnar did not care for lavish offerings or rehearsed apologies. What he wanted was answers. Answers they had yet to give.

"Yes," Circe confirmed, though Ansel had scarcely spoken a word since Ragnar’s arrival.

"The gifts are appreciated," Ragnar said at last, his tone flat, "but I think Mr. Hawthorne ought to be on his way. The guards will escort you out."

Ansel’s lips parted at the blunt dismissal. "Your Highness, I—" freewebnøvel.com

But Ragnar had already dismissed him. His attention remained solely on Circe.

"Come. I want to show you something." His hand closed around her wrist as he spoke, ignoring Ansel entirely.

Circe glanced at his grip, weighing her options. She could follow willingly, or she could be dragged along. She didn’t care much for the second option.

So she went without protest, letting him lead her down the familiar halls, his stride unbroken.

The more she thought about his behavior in the parlour, the less sense it made. Ragnar had never been so curt, not even with men he openly despised. She had seen him endure conversations with dignitaries he disliked, and never once had he been so dismissive.

"What you did back there..." Circe began cautiously, still trailing behind him.

"Was what I should have done long ago," Ragnar interrupted. His voice was even, but there was steel beneath it. "I told them what they must do to earn back my favor, and they thought I jested. They believed I would simply get over it. They will learn soon enough."

Circe had no reply, so she held her silence.

They left Ansel behind in the parlour, and before long, Ragnar was pushing open the manor’s main doors, his grip on her still firm, his pace unrelenting.