Free Web NovelChapter 339: Chapter 339
The first thing Ragnar did after leaving Circe that morning was head in the direction of Casilo’s chambers. He hadn’t seen much of his friend since he’d been carried back through the estate gates, bloodied, barely conscious, and hovering far too close to death for Ragnar’s liking. False charges and the queen’s meddling had kept him away.
As Ragnar pushed open the door to Casilo’s chambers, he found the man sitting at the edge of his bed. Casilo’s back was slouched, his shoulders rounded. His head was bent, dark hair falling forward, giving the impression of someone lost deep in thought.
The first thing Ragnar noticed was that the chains were gone. He closed the door gently behind him before moving farther into the room.
Casilo didn’t immediately rise to greet him, and Ragnar didn’t mind it at all, not after the man had nearly lost his life only days prior.
"How are you feeling?" Ragnar asked, his gaze sweeping over his second-in-command from head to toe.
Casilo wore only loose breeches, the fabric hanging low on his hips. The bandages that had once wrapped his torso were gone, no longer necessary. His skin had already knitted itself back together. The absence of a shirt left the evidence of his injury plainly visible, now only a pink scar on his skin where the blade had once struck. Aside from that, Casilo looked whole.
"I apologize for not coming to see you sooner," Ragnar continued. "I was on my way to do just that when I was arrested." freewebnøvel.coɱ
Casilo turned his head then, green eyes lifting to meet Ragnar’s.
"Anything is better than being stabbed, that’s for sure," he said dryly. "And you needn’t trouble yourself. I don’t need any more people fretting over me."
The words were spoken with the ease of long familiarity, born from years of camaraderie. Then his tone softened slightly. "I was told the king’s guards were here."
"They were," Ragnar replied simply. "It was a miracle their horses didn’t collapse under the weight of their large sense of self-importance."
Casilo’s jaw tightened. "Fools. I hate every one of them." The anger in his voice was sharp, and unfiltered, aimed not just at the guards themselves, but at the thought of what they might have done to Ragnar while he’d been in their custody.
Ragnar let out a quiet chuckle. "I remember that you wanted to become a royal guard when we were children."
Casilo scowled, clearly dragged back into that unwanted memory. "And every day I’m thankful it didn’t happen. Can you imagine me as one of them? I would sooner carve out my own heart and feed it to the queen’s hounds."
While Casilo spoke, Ragnar took the opportunity to study his eyes. They were clear and alert. Nothing like the blazing, unfocused stare that marked those still trapped in the throes of bloodlust.
The eyes never lied.
There had been rare cases of people with enough mental control to hold a conversation while suffering from bloodlust. They could speak, reason, even smile. But their eyes were always the same: hollow, empty voids that reflected nothing of who they once were. It was the surest sign Ragnar knew, the only one that truly mattered. And Casilo’s gaze told him the danger had passed.
Ragnar smiled faintly at the vehemence in his friend’s words.
"It seems the pig’s blood helped," he remarked, referring to the order he had given the guards to force it down Casilo’s throat the moment he woke. "Thanks to you, there’ll be an abundance of pork on the dinner table for a while yet."
The change in Casilo’s expression was swift, but minuscule, something most would have missed.
"Yes," he said. "It was quite useful." fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓
As the moment stretched, Ragnar became aware of a faint, lingering scent in the room. It was subtle and floral. He’d been too focused on the conversation to notice it before.
"Was there someone else here with you?" Ragnar asked, curiosity threading his tone.
"Ah, yes. A few people, actually." Casilo glanced away briefly. "You’re not the only one in this manor fretting over my well-being."
The truth was far simpler. There had been only one person in his chambers that morning. Her presence had been constant since he’d regained consciousness. The pig’s blood had helped but it was only a fraction of what he truly needed.
Nieah had come to him every day since he woke. And every day, she had let him feed from her. It was the only reason he had been able to claw his way back from the brink of bloodlust.
Casilo didn’t tell Ragnar any of this. Doing so would place Nieah in serious trouble.
Ragnar’s orders had been explicit: no one but the guards was to enter Casilo’s chambers while he remained in that state. Nieah had defied them deliberately. It hardly mattered that her actions had saved him. Disobedience was still disobedience.
And Casilo knew the truth would surface eventually. The guards stationed outside his door were loyal to Ragnar above all else. They would speak, sooner or later.
But there was another reason Casilo kept silent. If he told Ragnar the truth, he would have to explain the tangled relationship that existed between him and Nieah. They were friends. They had always been friends. Yet whenever he fed from her, whenever he held her afterward, it felt like something more. Something he neither understood nor was ready to name.
Ragnar didn’t question his response. His focus had already shifted to the second reason he had come that morning.
"Tell me what happened out there," Ragnar said, his gaze unwavering as Casilo nodded once, preparing to speak.
"My group had just received word of the location of the next rebel campsite," Casilo said, his voice steady as he recounted the events, though it was clear that the memory weighed on him. "We were told the camp was small, that the rebels were few in number and poorly organized. But when we arrived, we realized, far too late, that we had been horribly mistaken. The camp was much larger than the one you ambushed, and the rebels there greatly outnumbered the men I had with me. I knew they had numbers, but what I saw that day was beyond anything I expected. Worse still, they knew we were coming. They were prepared. We had essentially walked straight into a trap."
Ragnar remained silent, his attention fixed on Casilo as he spoke.
"My men fought well, considering the circumstances we were faced with," Casilo went on. "We killed many of them but we lost many of our own as well. In the chaos, I saw a man among the rebels who perfectly matched the description of their wanted leader, Gerard. A massive mountain of a man." His jaw tightened at the memory. "I fought him. I would have killed him, if not for one of his men stabbing a sword straight into me."
Casilo’s hand drifted unconsciously toward his newest scar. "In the end, only a handful of us survived. We fled. I came straight back here. I figured that if I was going to die, I might as well do it in a place I’ve called home for years."
Ragnar listened intently, his mind already racing as he processed everything Casilo had told him.
