Free Web NovelChapter 113: Chapter 113
Circe sat on the terrace, staring out into the courtyard below, her gaze distant and unfocused. The late afternoon sun bathed the stone walls in a soft golden hue, but she seemed utterly unaware of it.
She was so deep in thought that she barely noticed when Nieah set a cup of spiced mead down before her.
It had been three days since she found the rabbit lying lifeless in the garden, and she was still struggling to come to terms with what she had seen.
None of it made sense. The memory replayed in her mind constantly. The dreams, the strange memories she had no prior knowledge of, and those eerie glowing threads that seemed to pulse with life.
She could not wrap her mind around what had happened, how an animal that had been dead one moment, could stir back to life the very next. How was such a thing even possible?
When Nieah found Circe in the flower garden with her skin pale as chalk and her hands trembling as if she had touched death itself, she had assumed Circe had simply fallen ill. Since then, the ever-dutiful housekeeper had taken it upon herself to nurse her back to health, spending the past three days attending to her with unwavering care.
Circe had tried, more than once, to explain the truth, to tell Nieah what she had witnessed. But every time she opened her mouth, the words failed her. It was as though an invisible force clamped around her throat, stealing her voice before she could make sense of it all.
And even if she could explain, what then? Who would believe her? Dreams that bled into waking hours, memories she could not recall living, and a dead creature revived by invisible light?
She would be branded mad woman before she even finished speaking.
So she chose silence. For now, she would hold her tongue until she could make sense of the mystery herself or until her confusion finally snapped her in half.
Ironically, the very next day she had come down with a real fever. Nieah’s worry had only deepened, and Circe had not needed to fake being ill any longer.
She knew she should still be in bed, resting as Nieah had reminded her at least seven times already that day, but Circe had deliberately ignored those instructions. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of late-blooming lilies, and for the first time in days, the weather seemed perfect for riding.
But she could already imagine Nieah’s horrified reaction if she so much as mentioned horseback riding. The woman would probably have her tied to the bedposts to keep her from wandering off in her weakened condition.
"You shouldn’t stay out too long, or you might catch a chill," Nieah said softly. She must have noticed something in Circe’s expression, because instead of leaving immediately, she took the seat opposite her, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
" Is something wrong, your highness?"
A faint crease formed between Circe’s brows, though her eyes were still fixed on the horizon.
"You’re very good at caring for sick people," Circe murmured after a while. It sounded like a passing observation, but her tone carried quiet gratitude.
"I had to learn how," Nieah replied. Then, after a pause, her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I don’t think there was ever a time in my life when I wasn’t caring for someone."
The statement was rife with so many hidden meanings, things left unsaid but still deeply felt.
Circe’s attention finally shifted to her. "What did you do before coming to Lamora?" she asked, her voice gentle but curious. She had always wanted to know, though she had never quite found the courage to ask before. She wasn’t sure if such a question might be considered rude.
Nieah looked momentarily startled by the question, but she recovered quickly. "I took care of my siblings and my sick father," she said, her gaze falling to the table. "Then, after I married, I cared for my husband as any good Azairen woman would."
Her voice softened, tinged with the faraway sorrow of old memories. A flicker of emotion crossed her face, love, perhaps even regret, and then it vanished.
Circe regarded her quietly. She had kept her distance from most of the manor’s residents since she and Rowen arrived, convinced that forming attachments would only complicate her plans to escape.
Yet, despite herself, Nieah’s gentle nature had worn down that barrier. Over the past three days, through her patient care and good-natured fussing, the woman was beginning to worm her way into Circe’s life.
It had been years since anyone had nagged her with such kindness.
"It must have hurt to leave your family behind," Circe said softly. "You must miss them every day."
Nieah lifted her head, meeting Circe’s gaze directly.
"Yes," she said after a moment. "It hurt when I had to leave but I assure you, Your Highness, I am exactly where I want to be."
Circe tilted her head slightly, curiosity sparking anew. "How so?" she asked.
It puzzled her deeply. Why would anyone willingly come to Lamora, a kingdom where humans were often treated as little more than expendable labor, or worse, livestock? Even though Ragnar treated his household well, Circe knew many others did not. It seemed unthinkable that someone would choose such a fate.
Nieah hesitated. A few seconds passed in silence before she spoke again, her voice lower, steadier.
"Your Highness, may I speak plainly?"
Circe nodded.
"Not all of us are born with titles and unimaginable wealth," Nieah said. "Some of us are born into poverty. Others into families that never wanted us. Many of those who come here do so not out of ambition, but desperation. We came seeking freedom from something far worse than any danger we could possibly face here."
Her words hung heavy between them, the truth of them sinking like stones in still water.
"We may not be truly free in Lamora," she continued, "but we are freer than we were before. That, for many of us, is enough."
She drew a slow, shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "I count myself among the lucky ones. I found a kind employer, and a place where I can rest without fear. Not everyone can say the same."
Her eyes glistened, and she quickly brushed away the tears before they could fall.
Circe said nothing. She merely reached for the cup of mead Nieah had brought her, its warm, spiced scent curling into the air. As she sipped, her chest tightened, not from fever this time, but from the strange ache of understanding.
For the first time in a long while, she felt a quiet kinship with someone else, two women from vastly different worlds, both bound by the same invisible threads of circumstance and longing.
Circe was left utterly shunned, her thoughts churning like a restless tide. After hearing the raw honesty in Nieah’s words, she felt a sudden, aching need to release a truth of her own, something she had never quite managed before.
For so long, Circe had kept her heart under lock and key, burying her secrets beneath layers of restraint. Yet there was something profoundly disarming about Nieah, something in her calm presence and open sincerity that drew Circe in, urging her to unburden herself, if only this once. freeweɓnovel.cøm
"My father despised this kingdom and its people," Circe began quietly, her voice carrying both bitterness and sorrow. "He said vampires were disgusting abominations. Growing up, he would tell me of how they were mindless, unfeeling beasts whose only purpose was to destroy. All they did was kill and kill, and it was never enough for them because cruelty was in their nature."
Her gaze drifted beyond the terrace, lost in some far-off memory. Sometimes she would picture her father and wonder what he would think of her now, living in the very kingdom he loathed, bound in marriage to a vampire prince with whom she maintained a reluctant friendship with.
But then she would remember the day she saw the bodies of her kingdom’s fallen soldiers piled upon one another like broken dolls, their flesh charred black as the flames consumed them whole. She could still see the orange glow reflected in the polished armor of Ragnar and his troops as they mounted their horses, ready to depart, faces cold, unbothered, their silhouettes swallowed by the smoke of her dying home.
That memory alone was enough to answer any lingering questions she had.
"Do you believe it?" Nieah asked softly.
Circe hesitated, her thoughts tangled between memory and doubt. "I... I don’t know," she admitted at last.
Nieah regarded her with a faint, knowing look. "Some of them are just as your father described," she said. "Some are even worse than that. But life has taught me that you can find horrible people anywhere in any kingdom, any city... sometimes even among your own family members."
Her final words made Circe’s chest tighten painfully, but she hid her discomfort behind a calm expression. Nieah, unaware of the turmoil she had stirred, went on gently.
"And just as there are cruel and monstrous souls, there are also good ones. People capable of kindness, compassion, and grace. What happened to you and your people was unspeakable, and I would never blame you for seeing them as monsters."
