Free Web NovelChapter 248: Chapter 248
When the magic that had held her frozen finally snapped loose, Circe nearly stumbled forward from the sudden freedom. She did not look back at the tainted carcass. Whatever invisible force had rooted her in place moments before still lingered faintly like a phantom pressure against her spine.
She all but sprinted across the grounds toward the manor, skirts gathered in trembling hands. She nearly collided with a maid rounding a corner, earning a startled gasp and hurried apology she barely registered. The corridors blurred as she moved through them, winding halls stretching endlessly ahead of her, her heartbeat pounding so loudly she was certain it echoed off the stone walls.
There was only one thought in her mind. Find Ragnar.
She knew he would likely be with Lady Taryn. But when she passed both Taryn and Avarine without spotting him with them, she realized that Ragnar might still be in the parlour.
That was how she found herself standing motionless at the threshold.
On her way there, she had rehearsed the words endlessly. How she would tell him about the bird and the strange magic that oozed out of it, along with the woman’s voice that had spoken inside her mind. She had shaped the explanation a dozen different ways.
Then Ragnar turned toward her.
Everything she had planned to say vanished.
Something in her expression must have shown the turmoil in her mind, because in the very next second he was crossing the room in long, purposeful strides. He caught her by the shoulders and gently drew her inside, shutting the door behind them with a decisive click that sealed them off from the rest of the world.
"Is something wrong?" Ragnar asked, his voice low and steady, though his eyes were twin pools of concern as they searched her face.
She opened her mouth to reassure him. The words hovered precariously on the tip of her tongue but she couldn’t bring herself to speak them. It would be a lie. And she could not lie to him. Not about this.
Instead, she drew in a shaky breath and began to tell him what happened.
She told him about the bird in the field. About how it had been alive one moment and dead the next. About the strange pull that had drawn her closer instead of letting her run. About the taint she could feel clinging to it.
Each revelation sounded more absurd than the last as she said it aloud, and by the time she finished recounting what happened, she felt like a madwoman spurting out insanity.
At some point she realized she had grabbed hold of Ragnar’s forearm, her fingers digging into his sleeve as if anchoring herself to him was the only thing keeping her from unraveling entirely. Her eyes were wide, her breath uneven.
Ragnar did not interrupt her once.
He listened intently, his attention unwavering. When she finally fell silent, she looked more unbalanced than she had when she first showed up.
Without a word, he guided her to the armchair he had vacated moments ago and helped her sit. The familiarity of the gesture nearly undid her.
You are death.
The words had echoed relentlessly in her mind ever since she fled the field. The woman had said nothing else afterwards. No explanation. No clarification. Just a sentence that felt like a blade poised over her future, threatening to cleave her life in two.
Thoughts churned visibly behind Ragnar’s eyes, his expression darkening as he no doubt speculated on where to go from here. He looked as though he wanted to say something but he never got the chance. freёwebnoѵel.com
The door to the parlour was pushed open, breaking the fragile cocoon of the moment. A guard stood at the threshold.
He bowed to both of them, but when he spoke, his eyes remained fixed on Ragnar.
"Your Highness, the guards you sent to Jireh have returned."
Circe looked up sharply, confusion momentarily piercing through her fear. Jireh? When had Ragnar sent guards there?
Ragnar gave the man a curt nod and dismissed him with a brief wave of his hand.
When he turned back to her, he found Circe already watching him, questions written plainly across her face.
"Why did you send guards to Jireh?" she asked. She was mildly surprised she could still think of anything beyond her own terrifying discovery.
"I’m searching for someone," Ragnar replied evenly. "The guards were sent to gather as much information as possible."
Her brows drew together. "Who?"
"Narfor," Ragnar said. "The man who’s been sending assassins after you."
Ragnar had not ruled out the possibility that Narfor was merely a tool, an assassin holder acting on behalf of someone far more powerful. But even tools often led back to the hand that wielded them. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
***
"Why in such a hurry?" Azul drawled from several paces behind him, his voice dripping with mockery. "Off to meet one of your whores?"
Jayran did not slow his pace.
"Perhaps it’s that one you seem to like so much," Azul continued, amused. "Am I wrong? Heaven knows this family already has a problem with bastards. Don’t go and make it worse."
Jayran’s lips curled into a sneer as he put more distance between himself and his brother, though it was barely effective. A second later, Azul fell into step behind him, uninvited and relentless.
"I don’t engage in conversation with sore losers," Jayran shot back. He hadn’t intended to respond, but the words escaped him all the same. His footsteps echoed sharply through the otherwise empty hall.
The truth was, he had not forgiven Azul. His twin had always played dirty but dragging the queen into their wager, knowing precisely how she would react, had crossed a line even Azul rarely dared approach.
Azul chuckled softly. "Don’t be like that, brother. I warned you before I agreed to this wager, didn’t I? I told you I wouldn’t play fair. I never have."
Jayran said nothing.
"And as it stands," Azul continued lightly, "there is very little I wouldn’t do to best you. I’m sure you share the same sentiment. So enough of your sulking."
The words followed Jayran down the corridor like a curse, each one a reminder that this game between them was far from over.
Jayran paused in his tracks.
"I hope you burn in the darkest part of innermost," he said coldly. "It’s the least you deserve."
Without waiting for a response, he resumed walking. Azul continued to trail after him, unhurried and seemingly unperturbed by Jayran’s words, as though curses and death wishes were little more than idle conversation.
"I will admit one thing, though," Azul went on mildly. "I underestimated you in the beginning, a lack of foresight on my part."
Jayran could hear the faint smile in his brother’s voice before he saw it. When he finally glanced back, Azul was wearing that familiar expression that was charming and deadly in equal measure. It was the same smile that had preceded countless betrayals, the same one that made people trust him moments before he destroyed them.
"But then perhaps that was what you wanted from the start," Azul continued smoothly, "for me to underestimate you." His gaze sharpened. "Tell me something, brother. How did Ragnar find the rebel campsite?"
"How should I know?" Jayran replied, not bothering to turn around again. His voice was clipped, and dismissive. "You know where Ragnar lives, in case you really want answers."
Azul scoffed derisively. "Don’t play stupid. Sometimes I wish you wouldn’t hide as much as you do." His tone dropped, losing its lazy cadence. "Show everyone the snake in their midst. Let them see just how cunning you can be."
Jayran’s jaw tightened.
"You really tried to hide your tracks," Azul went on, his footsteps drawing closer. "But you didn’t quite succeed if I was able to find out what you did." He chuckled, the sound taunting, though this time there was a sharper edge beneath it, something cruel and knowing. "I always wondered why you were so fixated on that one prostitute. Turns out she’s not just good for fucking."
Jayran stopped abruptly.
Before he fully registered the decision, he turned around and faced his brother. The suddenness of the movement left only a narrow space between them, tension snapping tight like a drawn wire.
"Most people are skilled at more than one thing," Jayran said, his voice low and venomous, "but you wouldn’t know that. You’re only skilled at one thing and it is killing for our ungrateful father." His lip curled. "A man who wouldn’t even spit on us if we were on fire."
He wanted to close the distance completely, to shove Azul back. The instinct was sharp and familiar. Instead, he forced himself to take only a single step forward, reining in the violence thrumming beneath his skin.
"One day," Jayran continued, eyes flashing, "you’ll die on one of his missions. And I will take great pleasure in knowing that I’m finally rid of you."
His gaze burned with unchecked fury. Arguments between them were nothing new. Clashes of words were common and more than once their confrontations had devolved into bloodied fists and shattered pride when tempers went unresolved. But this was different.
The moment Azul had spoken about Evelin with such casual contempt, a fire had ignited inside Jayran, fierce and uncontrollable. Azul had no right to think of her. No right to speak of her. No right to drag her into his games at all.
