Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 281: Chapter 281

The last rays of sunlight had finally waned, leaving their surroundings steeped in deepening darkness. Circe peered out of the carriage window and caught sight of warm golden light spilling from the inn’s windows, bright and inviting against the night. The sight alone promised rest, warmth, and a brief reprieve from the long road.

Momentarily distracted by the welcoming glow, she failed to notice Ragnar stepping out of the carriage. It wasn’t until he turned back toward her and held out his hand that she realized he had already dismounted.

"Come, let me help you down," he said. freewёbnoνel.com

As if it had become second nature, she placed her hand in his large one and allowed him to guide her down, even though she was more than capable of managing it on her own. She had learned that it was never because he doubted her ability to handle herself. It was simply because he wanted to touch her in any way he could, no matter how small or seemingly innocent the contact might be.

The realization still made her stomach flutter, and tonight was no different.

Inside, the inn was warm and cozy though that was the extent of its charm. It was average in every sense of the word, comfortable but unremarkable, and certainly far from what one would expect to host royalty. Only a handful of people lingered about the common area, likely patrons who had already settled in for the night. Their quiet conversations faltered the moment Ragnar entered.

They stared openly.

Circe noticed the way eyes widened and heads subtly turned as Ragnar crossed the room and approached a man she assumed to be the inn’s owner. The man gawked just as blatantly, his posture stiffening as recognition dawned on him. His reaction made it painfully obvious that he was unaccustomed to serving royals.

Circe remained a few paces behind, hands clasped before her as Ragnar spoke with the owner, attempting to secure a room for the night. She was too far away to hear the conversation in full, but fragments drifted toward her, words like festival and filled up slipping through the din.

By the time their discussion drew to a close, she had already pieced together the situation. A festival was taking place in town, and travelers from neighboring areas had flocked in to attend, leaving most of the inn’s rooms occupied.

"I could ask one of the guests to give up their room," the owner suggested eagerly, an optimistic smile tugging at his lips. "I’m certain they would be delighted to help a royal in any way they can."

Circe felt herself bristle instantly. The thought of displacing someone who had already paid for their lodging sat poorly with her, twisting uncomfortably in her chest. Thankfully, Ragnar seemed to share her sentiment. A moment later, he shook his head.

Shortly after, the owner bowed deeply and gestured for them to follow. Ragnar returned to Circe’s side, the innkeeper trailing behind him, but one glance at Ragnar’s expression told her everything. The room he got was not the one he had hoped for.

The owner led them through the quaint building, his voice filling the narrow halls as he spoke at length.

"Your Highnesses must be exhausted from your travels. As my most esteemed guests, please allow me to make your stay as comfortable as possible. I will send one of my workers up with a warm meal and the finest ale we have. She can also prepare a bath for you, should you desire one."

Ragnar responded with nothing more than a single nod. His mood had visibly darkened since concluding the discussion at the front, and he made little effort to conceal his displeasure.

"That would be wonderful," Circe said gently when it became clear Ragnar had nothing more to add. "But just a bath will do."

She glanced up at Ragnar, curiosity flickering in her eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice.

The innkeeper nodded eagerly. "Of course, Your Highness. As you wish."

They stopped before a closed door. The innkeeper retrieved a key and slid it into the lock before pushing the door open to reveal a fairly spacious room furnished with polished wooden pieces and modest charm. And in an instant, the reason for Ragnar’s sour mood became painfully clear.

The issue was not the size of the room, nor its appearance. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

It was the beds.

Instead of a single bed large enough to accommodate them both, there were two small, separate beds positioned on opposite sides of the room.

By the way Ragnar had reluctantly accepted the room, it was obvious this had been their only option for the night. Still, that didn’t stop him from scowling at the sight. There were few decent inns in the area, and their footman had ridden a considerable distance before finding this one at all. With no other suitable alternatives, they had been forced to settle for this place, and for this arrangement.

Circe was the first to step inside, her gaze sweeping thoughtfully around the room.

"Please do let me know if you require anything at all, I would be more than happy to assist in any way I can." The innkeeper said, looking between them.

But it was Circe who answered, her voice calm and gracious.

"Thank you, but this will do for now," she said.

The man bowed deeply and took his leave, the soft thud of his retreating footsteps fading into the distance until silence reclaimed the corridor beyond the door.

"This isn’t so bad," Circe muttered as she wandered farther into the room, her gaze sweeping over the furnishings with open curiosity.

Ragnar lingered by the door, barely stepping past the threshold. He stood there as though the room itself had offended him.

"There are separate beds," he said, a note of mild irritation slipping into his voice. It almost sounded petulant, and Circe had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing aloud.

They had shared a bed every night since the first time he had climbed in beside her. Since then, neither of them had ever chosen to sleep separately. The thought of spending the night without his arm around her felt strange, unnatural, even.

Catching the displeased scowl he directed at the offending furniture, Circe decided she could not resist teasing him.

"All I see is a warm room and a comfortable place to rest our heads for the night," she said lightly. She crossed the room and dropped onto one of the beds, testing the mattress with a satisfied bounce. "And look at this—quite comfortable. Just as soft as I imagined. Tonight will be a blissful night indeed."

That was all it took.

Ragnar stepped fully into the room and shut the door with a decisive click, turning the lock as though to seal his surrender.