Free Web NovelChapter 385: Chapter 385
"Now you are the one who is lost in thought," he said with a quiet chuckle, his voice tinged with amusement.
She turned her face just enough to see the corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth. The sight softened something inside her, but it did not chase away the weight pressing against her ribs.
Her lips parted, and before she could reconsider, she gave voice to the question perched nervously on her tongue. "Have you ever wanted to be a father?"
A faint crease formed between his brows, so subtle she might have missed it had she not been studying him so intently. Then, just as quickly, a playful gleam slipped into his eyes.
"Is this your way of trying to tell me something?" he asked teasingly in a way that made it obvious that he was insinuating something and he laughed outright when she swatted at him for it.
She rolled her eyes, but her heart was still fluttering nervously.
"It depends on when you would have asked me that question," he said after a moment, his tone shifting, the levity giving way to something deeper. "When I was much younger, I did not fancy the idea one bit. Whenever I imagined children of my own, I would remember all the things Irah did to me. The thought of someone attempting to do the same to them always sent me reeling."
These were admission he had kept to himself for years, and she felt the gravity of him entrusting them to her.
"Then I grew closer to Luria," he continued, his voice gentler now, threaded with an old ache. "I fell in love for the first time in my life. She made me want to move past my fears. She made me want to build something, to build a family with her. We married, and after I watched her die in front of me, it took me years to recover. I was not the same man afterward. I was grieving, miserable and the last thing I wanted was to marry again and bring a child into this dangerous world when I could not even save the most important person in my life."
His confession lodged somewhere deep in her chest, pressing against her heart. Without thinking, she reached out and traced along his arm tenderly, a quiet assurance that she was listening, that she understood.
"And now?" she asked softly. Her eyes never left his as she waited, suddenly aware of how much his answer mattered to her.
"Now," he said, turning fully toward her, "there is nothing I do not want with you." His voice was resolute in a way that left no room for doubt. "I want the whole world, as long as it is with you. I want your hand in mine through all of it. Everything feels larger, and more real when I imagine it with you." His thumb brushed absent circles against her skin. "That is what I want. Children, as many as you are willing to give me. And you by my side at every step."
Her heart skipped, then fluttered wildly, a warm feeling blooming low in her stomach before rising into her chest.
For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to imagine it: a child with his eyes, perhaps even his temperament. The image was both terrifying and just as enticing.
"I have been hesitant to take that next step," she admitted at last, her voice quieter than before. "I have been taking herbs to prevent myself from becoming with child."
It was only fair to tell him, since she had been the one that brought up the topic.
"I know." The look on his face was almost sheepish.
Circe’s lips parted in astonishment. "H—how?"
"We share the same room," he replied mildly. "I came across it while searching for a missing item of mine. I will admit that I did not know what it was at first, but I suspected Nieah would. She has an extensive knowledge of herbal remedies."
Circe could vividly imagine the scenario—Nieah’s wide-eyed expression when Ragnar showed her the herb, the way she must have looked like a child caught with her hand in a jar of honey.
Ragnar had told Nieah everything, and she had explained the herb’s purpose and how it worked, assuring him repeatedly that it posed no harm to Circe. Because in the end, that had been his only concern: her safety, her well-being.
"Did it upset you when you found out?" she asked carefully, searching his expression for even the faintest hint of resentment.
"No," he said simply. "Only you should have a say in such matters. I would never begrudge you for making that choice."
That single answer comforted her more than he would ever realize.
***
The news of the tragedy that had occurred at Lord Rycoff’s estate spread across the capital and the kingdom like wildfire, and soon it was all anyone could speak about. The report reached the palace only three days after the massacre, which was how Elka learned of it as well. freewebnσvel.cѳm
She had been seated in the grand dining hall at luncheon with the queen, the long table laid out with silver platters, when a messenger stepped inside. Without waiting a moment longer, he delivered the dreadful account in a voice loud enough for everyone present to hear.
After overhearing her father’s earlier conversation with the queen—his barely veiled fury and his insistence on vengeance against House Rycoff—it had not been difficult for Elka to piece together what had likely transpired, nor to recognize that her father’s had a hand in the bloodshed. The timing was too coincidental.
That was why, when she retired to her bedchambers that night, she hastily shut and locked the doors before crossing the room in swift strides. The chamber was quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of a single lamp set upon her writing desk, which stood before the shelf of books she had been permitted to bring with her to the palace. Their familiar spines offered a strange comfort amidst the storm brewing in her thoughts.
Ordinarily, she would end her evenings by composing a new journal entry, committing the day’s events to paper in neat, orderly script. But this night was different. She did not reach for her journal. Instead, she pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and settled into the chair.
Elka had spent the entire day contemplating her next course of action, how this calamity might be turned to her advantage, how she might finally begin to loosen her father’s suffocating grip on her life. As she dipped her quill into the ink and held it poised above the parchment, the path forward crystallized in her mind with startling clarity.
This would be the first step.
The first step toward avenging herself against the man who had tormented her and caged for far too many years.
Lord Rycoff,
I pray this letter reaches you in private and is read in solitude. What I am about to confess will wound you anew, yet I would rather be the hand that delivers truth than remain complicit in silence.
It was my husband, Lord Halric Nerath, who orchestrated the massacre at the banquet, the slaughter that claimed your son, Kaz, and the other gathered nobles. It was planned within my own household.
I did not know of it beforehand. Had I known, I would have thrown myself at your gates to prevent it. I learned of his deeds only after they had been carried out. I noticed the unease among his men, the sudden dismissal of certain servants, the burning of correspondence in the hearth long after midnight. When I pressed him, he dismissed me. When I persisted, he grew careless in his anger. It was in that carelessness that he confessed enough for me to piece the rest together.
The banquet was chosen deliberately. He knew which nobles would attend. He knew your oldest son would be there. It was not a crime of passion. It was calculated and executed with intent.
I have lived with this knowledge since that night. Every time I see a father walk beside his son, I am reminded of what was taken from you. I can tell you from experience that the pain and weight of it has not lessened with time. It has only grown heavier.
You lost a son, just as I. Of all men in this kingdom, you deserve the truth, regardless of what storms it may unleash. I know what will follow if this letter is discovered. My name will be ruined, my safety stripped away, and the life of my daughter would be placed in peril. Yet I cannot remain silent while you are left to grieve.
I do not ask you to spare my husband. I do not ask you to temper your anger. I ask only that when the truth comes to light and the inevitable reckoning begins, grant mercy and protection to me and to my daughter, Elka. She is innocent in this, as I was ignorant until it was too late. Whatever judgment falls upon Halric, let it fall upon him alone.
I place my fate in your hands, Lord Rycoff, as I now place the truth before you.
Lady Nereth.
Elka smiled to herself, already thinking about how she would deliver this letter to Lord Rycoff and the aftermath that would surely come from it.
