Free Web NovelChapter 368: Chapter 368
As Circe stood there with the white linen outlining her soft curves, Ragnar felt a tightening in his breeches. With the way the outline of her breasts were visible through her shift, he was grateful, in that moment, that he had instructed the footman to remain outside the shop.
He had seen her countless times before, more intimately than this, and yet the sight of her never failed to stir something fierce and possessive within him. The awareness of her sent warmth coursing through his veins.
It was inconvenient, considering they were not alone.
His jaw flexed slightly as the seamstress stepped forward with her measuring tools. For a fleeting, reckless second, Ragnar contemplated asking the woman to wait outside her shop as well.
When the measurements were complete, arrangements were made. Ragnar assured the seamstress that a servant would collect the finished gowns.
Then, with his hand resting at the small of Circe’s back, he guided her outside. Before they could make it away from the shop front, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He turned his face slightly and caught sight of Arius striding through a crowd of people.
Arius, the demon Ragnar paid to track down his mother.
A single thought ran through his mind. What was Arius doing there?
Circe noticed him staring off in the direction the demon went in.
"Is everything alright?" She asked.
Ragnar nodded. "Yes, everything is fine. I thought I saw someone I knew." freёwebnoѵel.com
Then without another word, they resumed their walk like nothing happened.
The footman straightened at once as they approached the carriage.
Once inside, Circe assumed they were returning to the cottage. She watched the streets pass by, content as she replayed the day’s events in her mind.
"Did you enjoy today?" Ragnar asked, his voice softer now.
She turned toward him with a smile. "I did. And I especially loved the street performance."
A hint of pride touched his features, pleased by her response.
"There will be more days like this while we remain here," he assured her.
She nodded, but as the carriage turned down a street she did not recognize, her brows drew together slightly.
They were not taking the route back.
She returned her gaze to the window and her frown deepened.
"Where are we going?"
He did not look surprised that she had noticed. But the faint smile he had worn earlier faded slightly.
"We are going to meet someone," he said.
"Who?"
"A woman I heard of in passing." His tone grew more measured. "She is said to know things. About the old magic. About the veil."
Circe’s fingers tightened subtly in her lap.
"And you believe she can help?"
"I believe," he said carefully, "that she may have answers regarding your aunt."
Her breath caught. "And the dreams?"
His gaze met hers fully now.
"Yes and the dreams as well," he said quietly. "From what I know, she is quite knowledgeable when it comes to magic and the creatures that wield it. She is a scholar of sorts."
Circe found herself wanting to know more about this mysterious woman who, it seemed, might hold the answers to questions that had haunted her for months.
Moments later, the carriage rolled to a halt before a very large temple. She leaned toward the window, peering out at the towering, intimidating structure that loomed above them.
"This is the oldest standing temple in Lamora," Ragnar told her. "It was built while Marzen was still king. It is said to house knowledge beyond our imagination. I doubt there is anything that cannot be found within its vaults."
Only then did it truly strike her how deliberate this all felt. Coming here had not been a last-minute decision. This had been planned thoughtfully.
She slowly looked away from the immense structure and turned back to him, studying his expression. "Is this the real reason for our trip to this part of the kingdom?" she asked, still trying to piece everything together.
At first, she had thought he had brought her here for a leisurely escape, a chance to spend time away from his princely duties. But clearly, he had other intentions, plans to help her find answers. Plans to help her solve the problems that have been hoovering over her like a storm cloud.
Only he could leave her breathless with surprise and utterly baffled in the same moment.
"Yes," he answered, "but it is only one of many reasons."
There was something in the tone of his words, an unspoken request for her to trust him. freeweɓnovel.cøm
They climbed out of the carriage together and moved side by side up the long flight of stone steps that led to the grand entrance.
The temple had been built in honor of Eloen the Weaver, goddess of wisdom and protection. Unlike other temples scattered across the kingdom, this one was always led by a female head priest, and most of its attendants were women as well, a tradition said to date back to its founding.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the change in atmosphere was immediate and profound.
A heavy solemnity hung in the air, thick enough to feel upon the skin. The space was saturated with the scent of smoke and burning incense, a deep, resinous fragrance that lingered in the lungs with every breath. The silence was so complete, so reverent, that each of their footsteps echoed loudly.
A few worshippers knelt in quiet prayer in the main hall, their heads bowed, their murmured devotions barely audible. Circe and Ragnar passed them without speaking, instinctively lowering their own presence to match the sanctity of the place.
Statues stood at nearly every corner, lifelike carvings of robed figures and watchful guardians. Their craftsmanship was so exquisite that they seemed almost alive, their stone eyes uncannily expressive, as though they followed Circe and Ragnar with silent scrutiny as they walked.
Circe opened her mouth, intending to ask how he knew exactly where to go in such an immense place, but the question never left her lips. They came to a stop before a heavy wooden door, its surface dark with age and reinforced with iron bands worn smooth by centuries of use.
Ragnar stepped forward, raised his fist, and knocked.
