Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 123: Chapter 123

He hadn’t even finished processing what he was seeing when Nieah came hurrying toward them, her skirts gathered in trembling fists, her breath sharp and uneven.

She came to a screeching halt the moment her gaze fell on the lifeless body sprawled on the ground. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Her hands flew to her mouth to trap a scream before it escaped, and tears welled instantly in her wide eyes.

Ragnar tore his gaze from the corpse and turned toward the guard standing a short distance away. His voice was sharp, and commanding enough to brook no argument.

"Secure all the exits. Make sure no one gets in or out until I say so."

The guards nodded grimly. Two of them immediately broke into a run to alert the others, the sound of their boots echoing behind them, while the last one remained rooted in place, sword in hand, to guard Ragnar.

"Wh... what? H... how did this happen?" Nieah stammered, her voice trembling, eyes fixed on the dead body before her. She could not seem to look away, as if tearing her gaze from the horror would make it less real. freewebnσvel.cѳm

"Strangulation," Ragnar said curtly. "From the stiffness and the discoloration, it’s safe to say that she’s been dead for hours. She would have already been gone by the time dinner was being served."

Nieah shook her head, disbelief twisting her features. A hard lump formed in her throat as her voice cracked. "No. No, that can’t be right. I saw her this evening. So did others! People said they saw her leaving the cellar with wine for the guests. How could she have been dead then?"

Her words echoed hollowly in the silent garden. Ragnar’s jaw tightened.

How could so many have claimed to see her when she was already dead? Was everyone mistaken or was there something more sinister at play? And if so, who had they truly seen walking through those halls earlier that evening?

Most importantly who had killed Maya?

Then, in an instant, realization dawned, chilling him to the marrow.

Someone had murdered the maid and worse, they had gone around masquerading as her. If the witnesses were telling the truth, then whoever had been seen carrying that wine must have been the killer in disguise.

Ragnar’s mind raced through the possibilities, and one dreadful conclusion solidified in his gut. Magic.

The same vile kind of magic that had been used against him and Circe before.

His first instinct was to summon his staff and interrogate every last one of them until he flushed out the culprit. But a darker thought crept in, cold and unwelcome.

What if the killer wasn’t part of his household? A stranger that had made their way into his home unnoticed.

But the dignitaries were the only outsiders that had been permitted onto the ground that day.

Panic spiked through him.

Ragnar turned sharply to the remaining guard, his tone laced with urgency. "Make sure the dignitaries remain in their rooms at all costs. No one leaves."

Ragnar straightened, and without another word, he ran back toward the manor as fast as his legs would take him. His heart pounded a frantic rhythm in his chest, his steps thundering as he sprinted back toward his chambers. And as he rushed inside, only one thought played in his mind.

He had left Circe all alone. Unconscious and unable to defend herself.

The thought struck him like a blade to the chest.

Ragnar silently berated himself harshly.

Damn it all, how could he have been so careless? To leave her unattended, vulnerable at a time like this, without even a single guard posted at her door? What kind of husband did that make him?

Even as he was being harsh to himself, a small voice inside him still reminded him that if he hadn’t left her when he did, he would have never discovered Maya’s body and what he knew now.

Still, the reasoning did little to quell the dread clawing up his spine.

His steps echoed loudly as he rushed up the grand staircase.

He took the stairs two at a time desperate to get to her, driven by fear and fury. When he reached their room, he didn’t hesitate. He threw the door open wide.

The sight that met him froze the blood in his veins.

A man, cloaked in black, loomed near the bed, a wickedly sharp blade glinting in his hand. He crept toward Circe, who lay still beneath the soft glow of the lamplight, unconscious, and utterly helpless.

Ragnar’s vision blurred around the edges. Every sound grew distant.

Was this the plan all along? To drug her with the fae wine, leave her weak and vulnerable, and then strike when she could not defend herself?

The assassin froze mid-step, his head snapping up as though he could feel the change in the air, the arrival of something ancient, a force not of this world.

Ragnar’s eyes turned pitch black as he reached into himself and summoned the shadows. They came eagerly, hissing and snarling, furious for having been caged so long.

People often assumed his shadows were merely a weapon he commanded, an extension of his will like his sword. But they were wrong.

The shadows were alive and sentient. Living, breathing beings with their own emotions.

They were creatures born of him, and yet apart from him. They hungered, and felt. But right now, they were livid.

A violent shudder ran through the room as they burst out of him in a torrent of darkness, coiling and writhing, a storm of fury and malice. Ragnar felt their wrath merge with his own, the heat of it scorching through his veins.

The assassin barely had time to draw breath before the shadows struck. They slammed him hard against the wall, pinning him there with brutal force. He struggled, thrashing wildly, but their strength was unmeasurable.

Ragnar stepped closer, his expression devoid of mercy. With a flex of his hand, the shadows condensed into a sharp lance made pure darkness.

He charged at him with it, intending to run him through with it.

The weapon tore through flesh and muscle with a sickening wet sound as Ragnar impaled him with it, the impact reverberating through the room.

The assassin gasped, choking on his own blood, crimson spilling down his chin as his strength failed him.

Ragnar didn’t look away. His jaw was clenched tight, his breathing ragged.

He had promised Circe after the pond incident, after nearly losing her, that he would protect her from harm. And by the gods, he planned to do just that.

Even if it meant becoming the very despicable creature the kingdom believed him to be.