Free Web NovelChapter 231: Chapter 231
Every surviving attacker was snuffed out, those who stood, those who fled, and especially the one who had dared to touch her. Shadows ripped off limbs and tore through flesh, forcing Circe’s attacker to drop his bloodied sword as the darkness nearly split him in two.
Before the man could even fall, Ragnar was there.
His sword flashed.
One, two. Three brutal, savage strikes was what it took before the man’s head finally tore free from his body. It hit the ground with a sickening thud, eyes still wide, staring blankly up at the night sky.
Ragnar stood there, chest heaving, breath sawing in and out of him. When there were no enemies left, he let his sword slip from his grasp. It clattered uselessly to the ground.
Then he turned to Circe.
She had tried to rise while he killed the man who stabbed her, sheer will forcing her to her feet but the pain had been too great. Her legs had buckled beneath her, and she had collapsed atop the corpse of the first attacker she had fought.
Ragnar dropped to his knees beside her.
The sight of her shattered him.
Grief, fury, terror, and despair crashed into him all at once, suffocating him beneath their weight. He could not breathe. His hands shook violently as he reached for her, a hard, painful lump forming in his throat.
The night had begun so perfectly. How had it come to this?
A loud, deafening ringing filled his ears as he took in the blood pouring from the wound in her abdomen. His mind fractured, splintering into jagged pieces. He could barely think, yet even through the haze, one terrible truth remained clear.
Her injuries could be fatal.
If she had any chance of surviving, he had to get her help now.
He could not lose her.
He would not survive the grief if she died. There would be no coming back from that kind of loss.
As he reached for her, ready to pull her into his arms, something strange happened.
She was still draped over the body of one of her attackers, her weight slack and unmoving. Ragnar watched in stunned disbelief as the wound along her arm and shoulder began to knit itself together before his very eyes.
Flesh sealed seamlessly, leaving unblemished skin in its wake. The sight was so shocking that it rooted him in place for a heartbeat too long, his mind struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.
Vampires and demons possessed accelerated healing but Ragnar, in all his years of being alive, had never witnessed anything like this. Healing that swift was impossible. And yet it was unfolding right in front of him, upon a woman who was never meant to wield any supernatural ability at all.
Urgency tore him free from his paralysis a second later. He carefully turned Circe onto her back, his hands trembling despite himself. The deep wound that had torn into her abdomen was already gone, as if it had never existed. No torn flesh. Nothing but smooth skin.
Yet Circe remained unconscious, her body disturbingly still despite every injury having been magically erased.
He barely felt his own injuries as he hoisted her into his arms, carrying her away from the gruesome sight of bodies strewn across the ground. When he returned to his estate, he shoved through the front entrance of his manor with Circe’s unconscious body still clutched protectively against his chest, as though letting go of her even for a moment might cause her to slip away from him entirely.
There was only one thought in his mind then, to get her somewhere safe and comfortable. Her eyes had yet to flutter open; she had barely even stirred since she collapse.
Both of them were drenched in blood, the rich fabrics of their clothes stained a deep red. Ragnar could still feel blood seeping from the cut at his side, warm against his skin, but the pain that should have accompanied the wound was now little more than a distant echo. It was eclipsed entirely by the sharp, suffocating worry coiled in his chest for the woman lying limp in his arms.
"Ride into town and call a physician," Ragnar ordered the group of guards stationed at the manor’s entrance, his voice clipped. It was well past midnight, and finding a physician willing to come at that hour would not be easy but the guards did not dare voice a single objection. Not after they saw the wild, unhinged look in Ragnar’s eyes.
Their gazes fell to the unconscious woman cradled against him, taking in her pallid face, and a second later they were already moving, scrambling to obey his command.
Securing a physician in the dead of night might have proven difficult for anyone else, but not for a prince driven by desperation. Ragnar would have torn the town apart stone by stone if that was what it took to see his wife safe and well beneath his roof.
Her wounds might be healed but he still had to make sure that her life was truly out of harm’s way.
He carried her up to their chambers and gently laid her upon the bed, careful not to jostle her. Nieah must have heard the commotion upon Ragnar’s arrival, because moments later she hurried down the corridor and came to a hesitant stop at the open doorway. She lingered there, watching as Ragnar leaned over Circe’s motionless form, the rigid control he so often wore stripped away to reveal the stress and fear etched into his face. She wasn’t sure whether she should step inside or remain where she was.
"Your Highness... what happened?" Nieah asked softly, worry thick in her voice as she stayed at the threshold. freewebnσvel.cøm
"We were attacked on our way back," Ragnar replied without looking up. "They killed the footman who was with us, and it was all too much for her. She fainted."
The lie slipped from his lips with unsettling ease. He refused to speak of what had truly transpired, not with anyone yet. Not until he could make sense of it himself. Not until Circe opened her eyes.
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