Free Web NovelChapter 413: Chapter 413
Weariness weighed heavily on Circe’s limbs, further draining her after all the magic she had expended since stepping into the cave. Even so, she clung stubbornly to the last fragile morsel of strength she possessed, using it to keep her mother upright. Thalora was in an even worse state than she was, her body slack, her steps unsteady, barely able to move without assistance.
Ragnar’s gaze was briefly drawn to the woman Circe supported, and for the first time, he truly took in the otherworldliness of her appearance. His eyes traced the pointed tips of her ears, the faint dull shimmer of her skin that resembled translucent scales beneath the dim light, and the subtle curve of her clawed fingers.
His ancestors might have come from the Faelands, and his library might have contained countless books detailing the nature and appearance of the high fae, but no inked illustration could compare to witnessing one up close. There was something undeniably ancient about her, something that felt both fragile and dangerous all at once.
"Help me," Circe said, her voice thin with exhaustion. "I don’t think I can hold my mother for much longer."
Ragnar did not hesitate. He stretched out a hand toward the two men who had accompanied him and ordered them to hand over their cloaks. One of them immediately shrugged his off and placed it into Ragnar’s waiting hands without question.
"May I?" Ragnar asked as he stepped closer to Thalora, lifting the cloak carefully.
It was imperative that they conceal her appearance, at least for now. The people waiting outside the cave might not recognize her as the former queen of Westeria, but the mere sight of a fae among them would be enough to stir unease, if not outright panic.
Thalora lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze, and even that small movement seemed to cost her greatly. Her grey eyes, so strikingly similar to Circe’s, studied him for a brief moment before she gave a weak, almost imperceptible nod.
Gently, Ragnar draped the cloak over her shoulders and drew the hood low over her head, hiding the sight of her pointed ears. freewēbnoveℓ.com
He stepped back, and his companions moved forward at once. One of them carefully pulled Thalora’s arm over his shoulder, supporting her weight and taking over where Circe had struggled.
Circe’s body sagged with relief as the strain was lifted from her. For a fleeting second, she felt weightless. Then the world tilted.
As she tried to take a step, dizziness crashed over her, and her vision swam. Her knees buckled beneath her but before she could fall, strong arms caught her. In one smooth motion, she was lifted off her feet.
Ragnar held her close against his chest. When she looked up at him, she found his gaze already fixed on her, concern darkening his eyes. Too exhausted to protest, she simply let her head fall against his shoulder, her body lulling as he carried her out of the cave.
Outside, the air felt crisp and clean and the survivors hurdled close to each other.
The group began taking account of the dead, noting their numbers even though there was, for now, no way to properly identify many of them. Aid was quickly offered to the survivors, especially those in critical condition. They were given food and wrapped in warm clothing, as many had not been dressed for the cold when they were taken.
Some wept openly, others clung silently to one another. Among them were relatives who had found each other again against all odds, and they refused to be separated, holding tight as they were all led down the hill to wait for the transport wagons to arrive.
Transporting the survivors proved to be the most difficult part of the mission, but fortunately, they had prepared for nearly every possibility. Before the group departed on what promised to be a long and arduous journey, Ragnar ensured Circe’s safety first. He placed her carefully into one of the carriages they had brought, alongside her brother and her mother, both still greatly weakened. Two armed guards were assigned to accompany them back to their manor in Amris, with strict orders to ensure their safety throughout the journey.
Only once they were sent off did Ragnar turn his attention back to the rest. The task stretched longer than anticipated.
They traveled from the eastern reaches of the kingdom down toward the south, stopping in settlement after settlement to return survivors to their homes. Each reunion was different, some filled with tears and cries of joy, others with stunned silence as families struggled to process the return of those they had long feared dead.
Each survivor was given supplies and a pouch full of coins as compensation for the suffering they had endured, along with a quiet apology that help had not come sooner. Though he knew no gift could ever erase what had been done to them, he gave anyway. He gave, and gave, until nearly half of the survivors had been returned to where they belonged.
Most of those taken had come from poorer provinces, laborers, farmers, people whose disappearances might have gone unnoticed for far too long. Yet now, word of Ragnar’s deeds spread ahead of him, carried from one settlement to the next.
By the time they reached the next town, the streets were already filled.
A mass of residents flooded the roads, cheering and waving as the group rode in. Some stepped forward with baskets filled with gifts, eager to show their appreciation.
But Ragnar declined them all politely.
He would not burden them further, not after all they had already lost, not after months of fear and uncertainty.
As with the towns before, he and his group did not linger. The decision had, in part, been driven by Ragnar’s desperate need to return home to Circe and Rowen as quickly as possible. The thought of seeing them again, of assuring himself with his own eyes that they were truly alright after everything pressed heavily on his mind and refused to loosen its grip.
By the time their task was complete, word of Ragnar’s rescue of the missing people would have already spread further across the kingdom. It would travel swiftly to the capital, seeping into every corner of the city before inevitably reaching the palace walls and he would not be there to witness how the news would be received, nor how the queen would twist it to favor her.
In this ruthless struggle for the throne, Ragnar’s accomplishments were bound to cast an unflattering light over Nheera’s sons. This situation would be no different.
Nheera would not see families reunited or all the people that had been rescued. She would not see the end of suffering. Instead, she would see Ragnar attempting to overshadow her sons, to make himself appear the more worthy heir in the king’s eyes. And for that, she would resent him all the more deeply.
