Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 276: Chapter 276

"What about my wife?" Ragnar demanded sharply. His voice cut across the chamber. "Why drag her into this?"

"To punish you," Jorrit replied after a brief hesitation. "For all the times you have interfered with their plans. At least that was how it began." He lowered his gaze. "But then it became something more. A convenient way to keep you distracted. They wanted your attention pulled away from their latest ploy."

Ragnar didn’t know what he had been expecting, but the confession did not shock him. If anything, it confirmed a suspicion that had been gnawing at him for some time. He lifted his chin, his harsh gaze boring into the bound man before him. His jaw tightened as he ground his teeth together.

"What is it?" he demanded. The words were clipped, dangerous.

Jorrit’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "They plan to unseat the king."

For a moment, time itself seemed to freeze.

Ragnar felt icy tendrils of dread coil tightly around his chest, stealing the air from his lungs. He forced himself to remain still, gripping the pommel of his sword until his knuckles turned white. His mind surged into motion, piecing together everything he now knew, pieces of the puzzle finally snapping into place.

He had always known that Laheir was corrupt. Ruthless and ambitious. But he had never believed he would dare to reach for the throne itself.

And yet House Tavish could not simply crown one of their own. None of them carried Marzen blood. The High Temple would never recognize their authority, nor would the kingdom follow a ruler without divine sanction. No, they would need someone else. Someone malleable. Someone with a legitimate claim.

They would need a son of House Acheron. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

"Which of my brothers do they intend to place on the throne as their puppet king?" Ragnar growled. He couldn’t stop the bitterness that bled into his voice, not when everything he had spent years carefully building now threatened to slip through his fingers with every truth Jorrit revealed.

"Prince Hairan, from what I’ve gathered," Jorrit said carefully. "But even then, there are doubts. They need someone... extremely compliant. And the prince does not exactly fit the mold they desire."

Neither do Jayran and Azul, Ragnar thought darkly.

That would be a problem for them. One Ragnar fully intended to exploit.

Circe was already tucked beneath the covers when Ragnar slipped into their chambers later that night. The room was bathed in shadows, illuminated only by the faint glow of the lamp on the bedside table.

He moved silently to the bed and sat at its edge. Circe slept peacefully, her breathing slow and even, her features softened in rest. For a moment, he simply watched her, memorizing the gentle curve of her lips, the loose strands of hair framing her face.

He reached out, his hand brushing through her hair with deliberate care, as though afraid she might shatter beneath his touch. The tenderness of the gesture stood in stark contrast to the turmoil raging within him.

"It pains me to know," Ragnar murmured softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, "that no matter how hard I try to protect you, being with me still puts you in harm’s way."

He stroked her hair again, his brows drawing together. "I’m sorry," he whispered. "I’m sorry that my enemies keep forcing their way into your life. It was never my intention." His voice wavered, just slightly. "When I agreed to this marriage, I never imagined you would inherit my burdens as well."

His thumb paused against her temple.

"I also never imagined that I would fall so hopelessly in love with you."

***

Circe found herself back in the cave once more. The moment her feet touched the familiar stone floor, she sprang upright, her heart racing as she eagerly scanned her surroundings. The air was cool and faintly humming with power.

"Dena," she breathed.

As always, she did not have to search for long.

"Are you ready for your next lesson?" Dena’s voice echoed calmly through the cave. Her expression was as unreadable as ever, as though Circe’s presence made no difference to her at all. She crooked her fingers in Circe’s direction. "Follow me."

She turned and began to walk away without waiting.

"I wanted to make a request."

Circe’s voice rang out, firm enough to halt Dena mid-step.

The woman turned slowly, fixing Circe with an assessing stare. Circe stood tall, her shoulders squared, betraying not a single ounce of hesitation. She had thought this through countless times, there was no room left for doubt now.

"What is your request?" Dena asked calmly, her gaze sharp.

"I want you to teach me how to defend myself with my powers," Circe said. She was surprised by the steadiness of her own voice.

For the first time, a crack appeared in Dena’s composure. A smirk tugged at her lips as she studied Circe more closely.

"Did you manage to land yourself in some sort of trouble?" Dena asked lightly, though there was something calculating beneath the tone.

Circe huffed a quiet breath. "I don’t know why you’re asking," she replied. "I assume you still have access to my thoughts."

The moment the words left her mouth, she reined in her sharpness. She could not afford to alienate this woman. Whatever Dena was, whatever her motives, Circe needed her.

A tense moment stretched between them, before something flickered across Dena’s face, too fleeting for Circe to study closely.

"Very well," Dena said at last. Her voice was smooth, giving nothing away. "You will get what you wish for."

This time, when the woman turned and walked away, Circe followed without a word. Her steps were measured, though unease coiled tightly in her stomach.

Dena led her back to the same stone platform where Circe had been brought before. The chamber felt unchanged, yet colder somehow. Just as before, a small animal lay atop the platform.

A hare this time.

Unlike the last creature, this one showed no signs of weakness or injury. Its chest rose and fell in steady, rhythmic breaths, its dark eyes bright and alert as it twitched its nose, entirely unaware of what awaited it.

Dena stopped before the platform and lingered there for a moment before turning to Circe. Her gaze was sharp, and assessing.

"You will be doing more than merely sensing souls this time," she said evenly. "Today, you will learn how your magic kills without drawing blood."