Free Web NovelChapter 307: Chapter 307
Rowen came to a halt at the stone steps just as the carriage rattled to a stop. A wide, unrestrained smile spread across his face the moment Circe’s foot touched the ground. A single week apart had felt far longer than it should have, and the ache of her absence had settled deeply in him. He did not even wait for her to reach the manor’s entrance. Instead, he rushed forward with his arms flung wide.
He collided with her and wrapped his arms around her in a fierce, unrestrained embrace. Around them, servants hurried to unload trunks from the carriage.
"You said the event was only going to be for three days, but you were gone for seven!" he complained, tightening his grip as though afraid she might vanish again if he let go.
Circe chuckled softly, her arms immediately circling his smaller body as she returned the embrace without hesitation.
"I missed you too," she said warmly. She stroked the back of his head with her gloved hand as he buried his face deeper into the soft wool of her coat.
A low, amused chuff sounded behind her.
Circe glanced over her shoulder and found Ragnar standing near the carriage. He was watching them with a quiet smile, one that softened his usually stern features. When their gazes met, his smile widened just slightly, something unspoken passing between them in that brief moment.
Rowen, sensing the shift, peeked past his sister to look at Ragnar. He blinked once, his expression mostly unchanged. He did not smile, nor did he frown. The stare lingered for only a few seconds before he turned away, his attention returning fully to Circe. His arms fell from around her and he stepped back, putting a small distance between them.
With his focus once more on her, his expression transformed. A bright glint entered his eyes, lighting up his entire face as he looked up at her eagerly.
"I managed to hit the center of the target for the first time while you were gone," he announced, excitement bubbling over. The news clearly meant a great deal to him.
His body nearly vibrated with giddiness, as though he had been holding the achievement close to his chest, waiting for the exact moment he could finally share it with her. "Kostia was there when it happened. You can ask him, he saw it too."
Circe beamed down at him, pride softening her features. "I always knew you would be skilled with a bow," she said. "A true prodigy in the making. You are far more skilled than I ever was at your age." Her smile mellowed into something gentler, tinged with longing. "I only wish I could have seen it myself."
A cold breeze swept through the courtyard, ruffling loose strands of her hair and sending them tumbling into her face.
"You still can," Rowen said quickly, unwilling to let the disappointment linger. "Later this afternoon. I might not hit the center again, but you can still see how much better I’ve gotten."
Circe laughed and ruffled his hair affectionately.
"Of course," she agreed easily. "First, let me wash this journey off me. Perhaps even take a short nap. Riding in a carriage for so long has made my back terribly stiff." She grinned as she held out her hand to him. "Come. Tell me everything you did while I was away."
He clasped her hand without hesitation, his fingers small against hers, and together they walked into the manor side by side.
Only an hour after their return, Ragnar found himself standing outside Rowen’s bedchamber. He knocked only once before the door suddenly swung open. Rowen’s eyes widened at the sight of him, surprise flashing openly across his face. The reaction was expected. This was only the second time Ragnar had ever come to his room. The first had been months ago, in the dead of night, when Ragnar had snuck in and dragged Circe back to his own chambers.
"May I come in?" Ragnar asked, a small, careful smile on his face. His hands were clasped behind his back as he stood just beyond the threshold, giving the boy room to refuse if he wished.
Rowen stepped aside silently, granting him entry without a word.
Ragnar entered the room slowly, his gaze drifting over the modest space. His eyes lingered on the stone hearth, then the bed with its slightly rumpled sheets, before settling on the wooden nightstand beside it. There, resting atop its polished surface, stood the wooden soldier he had carved with his own hands.
Ragnar walked over and picked it up, turning it thoughtfully between his fingers. "I have more of these, if you want," he said, glancing back at the boy.
"Thank you, your highness," Rowen replied, dipping his chin in a polite bow.
The words were respectful, but he was closed off. There was a kind of distance in their interactions, a restraint that had not been present earlier with Circe. He spoke to Ragnar the way one would address a stranger, or someone he didn’t know how to converse with. They lived under the same roof. They were technically family now. Yet that was where the closeness ended.
Rowen offered him all the courtesies due a prince, and nothing more.
Ragnar studied him for a long moment before gently setting the wooden soldier back on the nightstand.
"You don’t like me very much, do you?" Ragnar said quietly. His smile barely faltered. He already knew the answer, and it did not offend him.
"It isn’t that, your highness," Rowen replied carefully. "It’s just that sometimes I don’t know how to behave around you. You are married to my sister but you are also a prince."
The prince who had destroyed the only home he had ever known before Amris. ƒrēewebnovel.com
So many words remained unspoken, heavy in the silence between them.
Circe might have understood. She might have found a way to look past it. But that did not mean Rowen could do the same.
Even now, Ragnar could not help but notice how strikingly similar the siblings were in temperament. Affection came easily to them—freely given to one another and to those they held dear—but to anyone outside that inner circle, they were guarded, distant, and slow to warm up to others.
Rather than discouraging him, it only strengthened Ragnar’s resolve. He wanted to win Rowen over, to make the boy like him so he would one day show him the same softness he reserved for his sister.
"I am married to your sister, and that makes us in-laws. You are my family now, just as surely as any of my brothers are." Ragnar said calmly, his voice steady and sincere.
Rowen remained unconvinced, his expression wary and closed off. Ragnar did not press the matter. Trust, especially from someone like Rowen, was not something that could be demanded. It had to be earned slowly, and he was willing to wait.
"I see you practicing with Kostia every morning whenever I walk past the courtyard," Ragnar continued. "You are doing well."
At that, Rowen’s eyes brightened despite himself.
He was still so impressionable, too young to fully hide his need for approval. Like many boys his age, he craved validation from those he considered his betters. Even if he did not particularly like Ragnar, he understood the weight of praise coming from a man so accomplished in battle and swordsmanship.
"Thank you, Your Highness," Rowen said, lowering his head respectfully. "You were very kind to allow Sir Kostia to take time from his duties each day to train me. I am truly grateful."
"It’s nothing. But I must say, you are quite fluent in the common tongue," Ragnar observed thoughtfully. "I cannot say the same of myself at your age. I was butchering my way through sentences back then."
That earned a small, reluctant smile from Rowen. Ragnar took the small victory for what it was.
"And how skilled are you at speaking your native language?" Ragnar asked.
Rowen blinked, clearly taken aback by the question.
"I am still a bit better at it," he admitted after a pause, "but there is much I do not know yet." His voice softened at the end, tinged with quiet melancholy. ƒгeewebnovёl.com
He would never return to his homeland. He would never fully immerse himself in its culture or master its language the way he might have if circumstances were different. Even now, Circe was the only person he could speak it with freely.
It was a lonely, constricting existence and Ragnar knew Rowen likely saw him as the reason for it.
"Have you given any thought to what you wish to become in the future?" Ragnar asked gently, steering the conversation elsewhere.
Rowen nodded once. "I am a second son," he said simply. "Most second sons become soldiers in Westeria."
Ragnar frowned slightly. "But is that what you want to become?"
Rowen’s brows knit together as he considered the question. He looked as though no one had ever asked him that before.
"I think I would be good at it if I train hard enough," he said at last. After a moment’s hesitation, he added more quietly, "I have never really thought of doing anything else."
