Free Web NovelChapter 359: Chapter 359
Try as he might, Ragnar could not rid his mind of the contents of Lady Seraphine’s last missive. The letter had been intentionally sent on the day of Hairan’s wedding, carefully chosen because Seraphine knew the queen would be far too preoccupied with the lavish ceremony to suspect any wrongdoing.
In careful detail, Seraphine had written everything she had overheard while eavesdropping on Aeron’s most recent meeting with the queen. The letter recounted Aeron’s hate filled threats, and—most damning of all—his confession of certain vile acts the queen had committed in the past. Some of those crimes Ragnar had already suspected. Others had left him stunned, the parchment trembling faintly in his hands while he read and he found himself staring into the distance, struggling to gather his thoughts and decide what must come next.
He had known about Nheera’s hand in Prince Orrin’s murder. It had been the turning point that allowed Zeriel to ascend the throne. That much had always been clear, even if it was never spoken aloud.
But the rest...
Twenty-five years ago, Casilo’s family home had burned to the ground in what had been dismissed as a tragic accident. The fire had come in the dead of night, devouring the estate so quickly that most of the people inside at the time hadn’t escaped on time before the fire was upon them. Both of Casilo’s parents perished in the blaze, leaving the boy orphaned and forced into the care of his aunt, Lady Taryn. His father, Lord Minovo, had been a proud and outspoken member of the royal court, known as much for his loyalty to the crown as for his open distrust of the queen.
Years later, Lord Caelorth, Lady Taryn’s husband, had died in the middle of a feast, collapsing over his goblet before anyone realized what had happened. What had been left of the poisoned wine that he had consumed was spilled to the floor when his arm accidentally knocked it over.
Both men had shared one dangerous trait: a deep and unflinching hatred of the queen.
It was not difficult to believe that Nheera had orchestrated their deaths for that reason alone. Yet Ragnar could not shake the feeling that there were deeper motives still hidden beneath the surface, secrets he had yet to uncover.
Knowing what he knew now, he did not know how he would ever bring this truth to Lady Taryn. The tragedies had occurred years ago, but time did not heal every wound. Some losses did not fade. They settled into the bones and remained there.
And then there was the matter of his mother. Ragnar had always known the queen was somehow involved in her disappearance. freёwebnovel.com
Before he was born, his mother had worked in the palace as a lady’s maid. Unlike others of her kind who concealed their nature to survive among humans, she had never hidden what she was. She had walked those halls openly as a demon—a decision that, in hindsight, had been a grave mistake.
Everyone in the palace had known.
Demons were creatures most people would never encounter in their lifetime. They were said to dwell deep within their own realm, rarely crossing into the human world. Their rarity only deepened the fear surrounding them. Mysterious. Unpredictable. Untrustworthy. Those were the words whispered whenever their kind was mentioned.
Ragnar had no doubt the other servants had treated her differently because of it.
The queen had long since forbidden anyone in the palace from even uttering his mother’s name, as though that alone could erase her existence. Yet from scattered fragments of gossip Ragnar had gathered over the years, he had pieced together what must have happened before she fled to escape Nheera’s wrath.
Most people would never meet a demon.
The king had been one of those people, until he met the woman who called herself Leonora Sealey, a name Ragnar now doubted more with every failed attempt to track her down. Whether it had ever been real no longer seemed certain.
Zeriel had been newly crowned then, still intoxicated by power, still convinced that the world existed for his indulgence. His curiosity about the demon working within his palace had not been born of wonder, but of a wicked desire.
Everyone in the palace knew the type of man the king was. It had never been a secret. Zeriel was a lecherous man, one who pursued women with a sense of entitlement that came from wearing a crown. When he desired someone, whether out of genuine interest or fleeting amusement, he pursued relentlessly, heedless of the consequences his attention brought into their lives.
Many women had suffered for that attention. Lady Seraphine’s sister, Emery, was among them.
Zeriel cared only for his own gratification, forever chasing the next conquest that might briefly entertain him. Ragnar’s mother had been one of those conquests.
To Zeriel, she had been something novel. Exotic. A curiosity to possess. A treasure to claim simply because he could. freewёbnoνel.com
And though Ragnar had never heard of his father forcing himself on any woman, that did not mean he had not used his authority to coerce them into yielding to his advances. For many of those women, there had been only two choices: yield to him or face whatever consequences that their refusal might bring.
And no one defied a king whose favor determined whether they lived comfortably or at all.
The rhythmic creak of wheels over the road pulled Ragnar from his thoughts.
He blinked, the haze of his reveries dissolving as he focused on Circe seated across from him in the carriage. They had left the inn not long ago and now she sat near the window, shoulders angled toward it as she watched the passing terrain with quiet interest as they passed open fields and scattered woodland.
The world outside moved forward.
Inside the carriage, Ragnar felt as though he were still standing in the ruins of the past, trying to decide which truth to confront first.
But that wasn’t what had caught his attention. It was the light melody Circe had been humming for some time now.
At first, he thought his ears were playing tricks on him. Yet when he listened more intently, allowing the silence between them to stretch, he realized that he did indeed recognize the tune. It was faint, almost absentminded, as though she were not even aware she was making the sound.
With how distant and distracted she looked, he doubted she realized she was humming it at all.
"How do you know that song?" he asked.
He watched as she tore her gaze away from the window and the passing scenery to look at him.
