Free Web NovelChapter 125: Chapter 125
Silence stretched taut in the room, thick and suffocating, as the guests stared wide-eyed at the corpse that had been thrown before them.
The body lay sprawled in the center of the room, blood seeping into the patterned carpet beneath it, the metallic scent already beginning to taint the air.
At once, their gazes flicked between the lifeless form and Ragnar, confusion and fear warring in their expressions.
"What is the meaning of all this, Your Highness?" demanded the man who had been pacing only moments ago. His voice trembled with outrage and barely veiled horror.
The sight of the corpse had clearly shaken him, his hands trembling despite his attempt to maintain dignity.
Ragnar turned to him slowly, his movements seeming almost predatory. When his gaze met the man’s, the dark pools of his eyes seemed almost bottomless, an unnerving black that reflected neither kindness nor mercy.
"Remember who you are speaking to," Ragnar said, his voice low and dangerous, cold enough to send a chill through the room. "And watch your tone."
The man’s mouth snapped shut instantly. The reprimand carried the weight of an unspoken threat.
It wasn’t common for Ragnar to lose control like this but when he did, his temper was something few dared to test, especially when his shadows were this close to the surface.
Ragnar’s stare swept over the room, making even his men squirm under its weight. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓
Everyone knew how unpredictable he could become when provoked. The faint, ghostly tendrils of shadow curling faintly at his feet was evidence that they all had to tread carefully.
"I will only repeat myself once," Ragnar said, his tone deadly calm. "How did this man get into my estate?"
The question cut through the room like a blade.
His words were directed not only at the dignitaries but also at the guards lining the walls who now shifted uneasily under his scrutiny. If they had been doing their jobs properly, all this would never have happened.
There was still a chance that he was making a very huge mistake by interrogating his guests.
If he was wrong, it would not only be a grievous insult to their houses but also a political catastrophe. Word could reach the king, and such an incident could not easily be brushed aside.
But even that was not enough to stop him. He had listened to his gut all night about the fae wine and Maya’s death and it was yet to lead him on the wrong path.
The timing of the dignitaries’ arrival was too convenient, their presence too coincidental. The assassin in his bedchamber, along with Maya’s body that was left out in the garden— it all stank of conspiracy.
Ragnar couldn’t yet see the full picture, but every thread he followed led him back to them.
He received word from the palace only days ago that a small delegation of the king’s dignitaries would be arriving in Amris. As the one who controlled the town’s affairs, it was his duty to host them, and to offer them every courtesy.
But all courtesies would mean nothing if he discovered they had brought death into his home.
He studied each man in turn, his gaze sharp and assessing.
"You have gone silent. Speak!" he said at last, his tone cold and cutting. "Do you not recognize him?"
"Your Highness," stammered the man who had been sitting on the edge of the bed. He was now standing on his feet with visible fear in his eyes, "we have no idea what you are talking about. I don’t know this man! We were in our rooms the entire time before your guards dragged us out. We have no knowledge of how anyone could have entered your home."
Ragnar’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he stepped closer, shadows rippling faintly around his boots like restless smoke.
"So," he said softly, "you’re telling me that if I were to slice you open from ear to ear, I wouldn’t find another face hidden beneath?"
The air thickened with the hum of magic as tendrils of darkness slipped from his form, writhing lazily around him like serpents tasting the air.
The man blanched, stumbling backward. "You can’t! His Majesty—"
"After I explain what happened here," Ragnar interrupted coolly, "I’m sure His Majesty will understand."
His focus was fixed entirely on the trembling dignitary before him, which was why he didn’t notice the other man’s darting eyes, searching, and calculating.
With Ragnar’s back turned, the man slipped a hand beneath his robes and retrieved something small and metallic that glinted under the light.
For an instant, the two men met each other’s gaze, and a silent exchange passed between them.
Then one of them lunged.
Ragnar moved before the guards could even draw their swords.
Shadows exploded from Ragnar like a living storm, slamming into the would-be attacker.
The man’s cry was cut short as the shadows coiled around him, squeezing, twisting until a sickening crack split the air.
By the time the others had even registered what had happened, the man was already on the floor, his head bent at an impossible angle.
The room fell into stunned silence once more, the stench of death thicker now more than ever.
Ragnar didn’t flinch. He merely stood there, surrounded by his restless shadows, his expression unreadable. The corpse at his feet was answer enough.
Someone had brought death into his home and now, death had answered back.
No transformation followed. The man’s features remained exactly as they were. There was no flicker, or grotesque morphing of skin into another face.
That alone would have been enough to make Ragnar doubt his decision, had he not seen what the man was clutching only moments earlier.
The object slipped from the man’s limp hand and hit the floor with a metallic clang. It was a throwing knife.
Ragnar’s eyes narrowed.
The man had planned to attack him and he planned to do so while Ragnar’s back was still turned.
It was a fool’s move, but not a meaningless one. For a man to strike knowing he was surrounded by guards, knowing full well he would never leave that room alive, meant one thing. Ragnar had come too close to uncovering something.
Closer than any of them had thought.
The body hit the ground with a heavy, final thud. Before the sound had even finished echoing, his guards lunged toward the remaining man. They moved swiftly and without hesitation, tackling him to the ground with the same brutality they reserved for the kingdom’s most dangerous criminals.
The man struggled violently, snarling and thrashing beneath their grip, but he was no match for their combined strength.
Tension thickened the air until it felt like a living thing, coiling around the room and suffocating the silence. The only sounds were the man’s muffled curses, the scrape of boots, and the sharp intake of breath from one of the guards restraining him.
"Release me at once!" the pinned man barked, his voice cracking with fury and desperation. "You are making a grave mistake, Your Highness!"
Ragnar turned to face him slowly, his expression a mask of iron resolve.
"Am I?" he asked quietly, his voice low and dangerous. "I have killed two men this night alone. What makes you think I will hesitate to make it three?"
The man’s struggles faltered for a moment, uncertainty flickering across his face. Ragnar didn’t wait for a reply.
" Take him away and lock him up," he ordered sharply. "Strip him and search him thoroughly for anything that can be used as a weapon. I want guards posted both inside and outside his cell at all times. No one goes near him unless I give the word. I’ll question him myself when I see fit."
And if nothing came from that questioning, then at least he would have the man charged with conspiring to attack a prince.
His gaze dropped to the two corpses sprawled on the floor and a faint curl of disgust twisted his lips.
"Dispose of them while you are at it," Ragnar said flatly.
He stepped over one of the bodies, his boots leaving faintest prints of crimson as he strode toward the door.
By the time he made his way back to his chambers, most of the blood had already been scrubbed clean from the floors. The scent of iron still lingered faintly in the air, but the marble gleamed under the soft light from the sconces.
Two guards stood posted by the chamber door, the ones he trusted to protect Circe.
They bowed as he approached, but Ragnar dismissed them with a curt wave. Once they were gone, he closed the door and turned the locks one by one until the heavy clicks echoed through the quiet space.
He lingered by the door, taking a moment to survey his room carefully, paranoid that danger could be lurking just by the corner unseen.
At last, his gaze found Circe. She lay where he had left her, still fast asleep, her breathing even and calm. The faint rise and fall of her chest soothed something in him, though not enough to banish the unrest clawing at his thoughts.
He went to her as though being tugged forward by an invisible leash, crossing the room in a few long strides and sat at the foot of the bed.
He watched her in silence, his fingers curling against his knees to keep from reaching out. There was peace in her face that he could not find for himself, a softness that seemed almost foreign and surreal after the violence of the night.
And as the minutes stretched on, he knew there would be no sleep for him tonight. Not with the weight of what had just transpired pressing heavily on his mind.
