Free Web NovelChapter 37: Chapter 37
The entire east wing of the palace was strictly off-limits to everyone but the king himself. It was reserved exclusively for his personal use and was guarded intensely. At any given hour, five elite soldiers stood watch at the grand arched entrance, their armor gleaming and weapons at the ready. Their orders were clear and absolute. No one was to enter or leave without the king’s expressed permission. freeweɓnøvel.com
As expected, the guards at the entrance blocked his path.
" I wish to speak to the king." Ragnar said but the guards remained rooted to the spot, blocking the entrance with the width of their hulking bodies.
"The king is not to be disturbed at this time." One of the guards said. Ragnar watched the man’s hands slowly reaching towards the pommel of the sword at his waist in warning.
The palace guards weren’t the type to act without cause. While they were certainly capable of violence, they rarely resorted to aggression unless provoked or given implicit orders. But today, something was different.
As Ragnar approached, every one of them straightened, their posture subtly shifting, not in open hostility, but into wary alertness. It was etched into their stony faces. Their hands hovered near their weapons and their eyes never left him. They watched him as if his very presence was a threat, as though the simple act of standing too close might unravel something truly insidious.
It was a very common reaction to Ragnar.
Ragnar had grown used to the way people looked at him, with scorn and suspicion, an unpredictable force of nature that could never be fully trusted. There was always a pause, a flicker of unease in their eyes, as if they were waiting for something terrible to happen the moment he entered a room. It wasn’t just because of his reputation on the battlefield or the fact that he usually didn’t partake in the balls and banquets the nobles used as opportunities to flaunt their obscene wealth. It was because of what he could do.
Ragnar had the rare and unsettling ability to manipulate shadows. He could bend them, weave them into shapes, command them to move where light should have made them still. It was a gift and a curse wrapped up in one, passed down from his demon mother. It was one of the only parts of her he had left. Since childhood, the shadows had answered to him, moved with him, even protected him.
But the vampires of Lamora didn’t understand the ability. It didn’t come from bloodlines they recognized or spells they could trace back to buried ancient texts. It wasn’t something they could study or replicate or even bind with old fae runes. It defied the natural order as they knew it and that made them afraid.
And in Lamora, fear was usually masqueraded as disdain. What they feared, they mistrusted. What they mistrusted, they shunned. And Ragnar was no exception. He had lived his entire life on the edges of their world, never fully welcomed, never fully dismissed. And now, as the guards eyed him like a caged beast ready to snap, he was reminded once again: it didn’t matter what he did or didn’t do, his mere existence was enough to unsettle them.
Ragnar took a few steps back, his hands raised slightly to show them that he wasn’t armed. " I only wish to speak with my father."
The guards didn’t look the slightest bit convinced.
Just then, one of the doors in the hallway opened and Laheir Tavish strode out. As he approached where the guards stood, he met Ragnar’s gaze.
Ragnar stiffened.
" What seems to be the problem here?" Laheir asked. He didn’t often speak in the common tongue, choosing to communicate with others in their native language. But whenever he did speak it, his words were always heavily accented.
His words were like a snake gradually slithering onto one’s leg, slowly coiling itself around their throat.
" Kingmaker." The guards bowed in unison. Ragnar reluctantly did the same.
" His highness wishes to have an audience with the king." One of the guards answered.
" Is that so?" Laheir smiled. He stared at Ragnar as he spoke. " Well I see no reason not to let him in. He’s still one of the king’s sons and his Majesty always makes time for his children."
That last part was a lie and they both knew it.
The guards moved aside to let Ragnar pass. Laheir might not have held the title of king, but his power and influence were nearly equal to that of King Zeriel.
As Ragnar stepped past the guards, his gaze remained on Laheir.
" You’re recovering well." Laheir noted. Something bitter crept into his voice. " How fortunate."
Ragnar stopped in front of the man. " You’re right, Kingmaker. I am very fortunate."
Laheir narrowed his eyes and that look alone said more than words ever could. They both balanced on a thin line between hatred and congeniality, trading fake smiles and thinly veiled insults.
When several seconds slipped by without a response from Laheir, Ragnar chose not to wait any longer. He turned and began walking deeper into the east wing, only stopping once he stood before the doors to the king’s private chambers.
He raised his hand to knock.
" Enter," a voice from the other side of the door ordered.
Ragnar twisted the knob and pushed open the door. He walked inside, shutting the door gently behind him. The king’s bed chamber was luxurious with high ceilings decorated with gold leaf moldings and a large chandelier that hung overhead. A grand canopy bed with silk curtains sat in the center, surrounded by ornate furniture and a detailed rug. A small fire smothered in hearth, while plush fur throws lie on the floor. Tall windows with velvet drapes let in the dying rays of sunlight.
The king lifted his head at the sound of Ragnar’s approach, a quill hovering over paper. He was sitted on a high-backed chair, a writing desk positioned in front of him.
" Your majesty," Ragnar bowed. " Forgive me for coming here unannounced but I’m afraid the matter can’t wait any longer."
" You have never been the impatient sort." The king drawled. He finally lowered the quill to the parchment and began to write.
Ragnar refused to glance down at what was being written. He remained on his feet, hands by his side, his eyes firmly on the king.
" I get restless when I’m away from my manor for too long." Ragnar said. It was only partially true. It wasn’t distance from his home that made him uneasy, it was being trapped within the palace walls." I wish to return to Amris and I wish to take my wife with me. I believe I have earned the right to do so after surviving the queen’s punishment."
" Punishment." The king’s lips twitched. " You think the queen’s trials were a punishment?"
" It’s the only way to truly describe what happened in that arena." Ragnar answered.
The king hummed in thought, dipping the tip of the quill once more into the ink.
" And did you deserve it? The punishment?" The king asked.
This was where speaking with his father became dangerous. In a court riddled with liars and flatterers, the king had come to value blunt honesty above all else. But the truth, Ragnar had learned, often tasted worse than an embellished lie and even when honest, one still had to tread carefully.
" Yes, I did." Ragnar answered. " Partially at least." He added as an afterthought. " And I took everything she dished out without complaint. Now I just want to return home."
The king paused before he slowly looked up at Ragnar. " Do you not consider the palace your home?"
There had never been a single moment in Ragnar’s life when he thought of the palace as his home. The queen made sure of that. No matter how long he stayed within its towering stone walls, the place had always felt foreign, cold. Calculated, and suffocating. Never once had he felt the comforting warmth that defined a true home, not while surrounded by gawking servants nor beneath the glimmering chandeliers that hung like frozen stars above him. It was a gilded cage, beautiful on the outside but hollow at its core. To him, it was merely a place of obligation, not belonging; a stage for politics and posturing, never comfort or peace. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
He hated being in the palace and often found himself counting down the seconds until he could finally leave.
" I cherish many fond memories from the palace, moments I will always hold close to my heart but I find a deeper sense of peace and contentment in my manor." Ragnar said. He remained calm and collected even though deep down he was growing desperate. He was tired. Tired of always looking over his shoulder, tired of the unjustified hostility, tired of always having to anticipate the queen’s every move, waiting for when next she was going to strike.
Such things were enough to make a man go mad.
A tense moment passed before the king spoke.
" Very well, you may return to Amris. However, I urge you to stay here a few more days. Just until you’re well enough to travel."
Ragnar bowed low. " Thank you, your majesty.
