Free Web NovelChapter 279: Chapter 279
The manor had been bustling with activity since the break of dawn, servants moving with practiced urgency as they packed Circe’s and Ragnar’s belongings. Clothes, along with other personal items, and everything they would need for the journey ahead. Small trunks were hauled from their chambers, and shouted instructions echoed through the crisp morning air.
Circe followed them outside, skirts gathered in her gloved hands as she watched the staff drag the final box across the foyer and toward the waiting carriage.
The horses snorted impatiently, their breath fogging the cold air as snow crunched loudly beneath her shoes.
Ragnar stood off to the side, observing it all with a sharp, discerning eye as he inspected the progress being made. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture straight and commanding, and for a moment he looked less like a prince preparing for travel and more like a war general surveying his regiment before battle.
The instant Circe caught sight of him, she headed in his direction. Her footsteps were so loud that Ragnar turned to face her before she had even reached him.
His stern expression softened immediately. A smile curved his lips as he lifted a hand and beckoned her closer.
"Ah, Princess, there you are," he said once she was within arm’s reach. "We should be ready to set out shortly."
As he spoke, one arm slid around her waist, resting his hand there in plain view of anyone who passed by and he made no effort to remove it.
Circe tilted her head up to look at him, her brows knitting slightly whenever her gaze flicked toward the packed carriage. freёwebnovel.com
"Don’t you think this is a bit too much?" she asked softly. "We’ll only be gone a few days."
The invitation had stated that the queen’s celebration was meant to last three days—a length of time which, in Ragnar’s opinion, was three days too many.
He drew her closer still, lowering his head to press a gentle kiss to her hair.
"The house I own in the capital is fully furnished," he said, his voice low and reassuring, "but it lacks anything personal of mine, or yours. And while the celebration itself may last only three days, the whole trip will take nearly a week. I want you comfortable the entire time. You will want for nothing with me."
Traveling on horseback would have been faster, but the weather had turned frigid over the past few days. Snow had fallen in thick sheets, blanketing the ground in white. Circe would have been utterly miserable riding through such weather on horseback.
A carriage would add hours to their travel and require an overnight stop at an inn due to the king’s curfew in the south but it also meant warmth, shelter, and comfort.
The extra time was a small price to pay if it meant ensuring her comfort from beginning to end.
Ragnar then glanced over his shoulder and motioned toward a nearby guard who stood a few paces away.
The guard stepped forward, a sheathed sword held carefully in his hands.
Its scabbard was crafted from deep burgundy leather, adorned with polished silver fittings. Intricate engravings decorated the metal, gleaming beautifully in the morning light. Leather straps crossed the sheath, secured with rivets and designed for wearing either at the hip or across the body. The hilt had a pale grip banded with darker accents and the whole thing was topped off with an ornate pommel.
Circe’s breath caught the moment her eyes fell upon it.
It was so similar to the sword she had once asked Ragnar to commission for her, so strikingly close to the one she had discovered in their chambers that her heart skipped a beat. Giddy anticipation wrapped around her chest as the guard presented the weapon to Ragnar.
The arm around her waist slipped away as Ragnar accepted the sword. He drew the blade smoothly from its scabbard and held it aloft. He turned it this way and that, examining the craftsmanship with a critical eye, testing its balance, and its weight.
When he seemed satisfied, he slid the blade back into place and held the sword out toward her.
"Here," he said lightly. "Try not to terrorize anyone with it." His smile never faltered.
Though the sword was as beautiful as the one she found before, Ragnar had ensured this one was more than just decorative. It was sturdier, better balanced, and expertly forged, a weapon she could truly wield in a fight, one she could use to defend herself in dangerous situations.
With Ragnar’s attention now entirely on Circe, the guard bowed deeply and quietly retreated.
Circe stared down at the sword, then slowly lifted her gaze to Ragnar’s face. She was yet to utter a word, and still he could see the excitement brimming within her, so bright and barely contained that she nearly vibrated with it.
Her eyes shone as her gloved fingers brushed the leather for the first time. She accepted the sword from him and held it close, cradling it as though she never wanted to be parted from it.
Ragnar watched her with a gentle expression, warmth softening his features.
Before he could react, Circe rose onto the tips of her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
"Thank you," she said, barely more than a whisper.
It was such a public display of affection, especially with all the servants and guards milling about. Even more so than when Ragnar had merely wrapped an arm possessively around her waist.
Circe took a single step back, and immediately something caught her attention, stealing her focus entirely. She turned her head and froze.
Rowen stood at the base of the stone steps, utterly still, his gaze fixed squarely on them.
There was no possible way he hadn’t seen the kiss.
"Give me a minute," Circe murmured.
Sword still in hand, she turned away from Ragnar and headed toward her brother.
A frown had already formed on Rowen’s face by the time she reached him, his posture stiff as if he was carved from stone.
