Free Web NovelChapter 427: Chapter 427
Ragnar woke to a strange tugging sensation in his chest. Sleep still clung to him, making his eyelids feel unbearably heavy, but he managed to pry them open just enough to take in his surroundings. His bedchamber remained dimly lit, much as it had been when he fell asleep, illuminated only by the faint, flickering glow of a single candle.
He shifted slightly, and his gaze fell upon Circe, who slept soundly beside him. The covers were draped loosely over her mostly naked form, rising and falling softly with each steady breath she took. But it was not her presence alone that held his attention, it was what lingered above her.
Hovering over her sleeping form was one of his shadows.
He would always recognize them. They were a part of him, bound to his very being.
It seemed he had unknowingly loosened his hold on them in his sleep, allowing one to slip free. It was not the first time such a thing had happened, though it had been a long while since it last did. When he was a child, long before he had learned to properly control them, they would seep out at night and gather above his bed like restless specters. Ms. Faye had even witnessed it once or twice, much to his utter embarrassment at the time.
Circe lay on her back, utterly unaware, as the inky darkness hovered directly above her abdomen, swirling languidly as though caught in a slow current.
Ragnar frowned faintly and tried to call it back to him, reaching for it with that unseen tether that always bound them together. But this time, it resisted. It ignored him entirely.
Instead, the shadow glided upward along Circe’s body, moving with a graceful ease. It slipped around her neck, before finally sinking into her hair, tangling itself within the dark strands as though seeking refuge and hiding from him.
His frown deepened. No matter how much he coaxed it, no matter how firmly he willed it to return, it refused to leave her side. His shadows could be unruly when agitated, sometimes behaving as though they possessed a mind of their own, but they had always obeyed him in the end. Always.
After a while, he let out a quiet, tired sigh, dragging a hand over his face. Exhaustion still weighed heavily on him, dulling the edges of his concern.
Eventually, he gave up and allowed himself to sink back into the bed. He decided to let it be.
It was a strange occurrence but he was not worried. He knew, with unwavering certainty, that his shadows would never cause her harm.
Early the next morning, Circe found herself standing before the door of the room where her mother had been staying while she recovered. The sun had yet to rise, and the manor remained quiet, still hours away from the bustle of morning activity. The halls were empty, the air cool and still, as though the world itself had not yet fully awakened.
She had lost count of how many times she had stood in that very spot, her hand hovering near the door, caught between entering and turning away. Each visit had been the same, a quiet battle waged within herself.
But this time, the decision came easier.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it soundlessly behind her.
Her attention immediately settled on Thalora’s figure resting on the bed. A few steps closer, and Circe saw that her mother’s eyes were already open, staring ahead with a distant awareness.
It wasn’t surprising. Thalora had woken up several times since she had been brought here, though she had done very little beyond that. She could barely stand without assistance as she had not fully recovered her strength, and she had only spoken a handful of words since.
At first, whenever Circe came to visit, she would simply sit in the chair beside the bed. Rarely were any words exchanged between them. There had been too much left unsaid for years, things Circe had longed to voice, thoughts that had festered and grown heavier with time.
And yet, each time she found herself here, in her mother’s presence, those words abandoned her. They remained lodged somewhere deep within her, unreachable. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
Lately, however, she had begun to speak.
Their conversations were shallow, inconsequential—carefully chosen topics that skimmed the surface and avoided anything of real importance. They spoke of trivial matters and of passing observations. It was far easier that way.
Thalora mostly remained silent during these exchanges, offering little in response. But Circe did not mind.
She crossed the room and lowered herself into the chair by the bedside. Gently, she reached out and took Thalora’s hand, her fingers brushing over the back of it in a slow, absent motion. Her mind wandered briefly as she considered what meaningless topic she might choose today, what safe, empty words she could fill the silence with.
But when she finally spoke, it was to say something she hadn’t intended.
"I killed your sister. And for good reason," she said. "She kidnapped Rowen and others. Innocent people. So many died because of her. She wanted to force me to become your replacement. That alone would have been reason enough for anyone to do what I did. But even before I learned the truth of what she had done, I already disliked her for different reasons. She lied to me. She kept secrets, so many secrets. Not much different from what you did."
Her thumb brushed slowly against Thalora’s skin, though there was nothing gentle about what she felt in that moment.
"I confronted her," she went on. "After I found out you might still be alive somewhere. And she told me she wasn’t obligated to tell me everything. But you were and yet you chose to lie to me. Over and over again. All those years... I spent them spiraling. Wondering why strange things were happening to me. Wondering if something was wrong with me and you knew. You knew all along and you said nothing. For what? So you could continue maintaining your perfect existence as queen?"
Though her voice never rose, the depth of emotion woven into each word was impossible to ignore.
"You... you do not understand..." Thalora’s voice was faint, strained, as though even speaking those few words demanded more strength than she had.
Circe leaned in slightly, eager hope awakening deep in her chest.
"Then tell me," she begged, her voice edged with desperation. "Please tell me why you sealed away parts of me. I was young, suffering the effects of what you did to me, and you convinced me that I was simply an angry child, that I was out of control and needed something like archery to direct my rage into. All along, I had been like that because of something you did."
"It was important that no one learned what you are or what I am. I... I did it to protect you, and I didn’t know how else to..." Thalora forced the words out as though they had been lodged painfully in her throat. "I wanted you to have the normal childhood I never had."
When Thalora gave birth to her first son, Torben, she had been overcome with relief when she realized that he was fully human, just like his father, with no magic of his own. She had been grateful that she would not have to do anything for him to fit in and be accepted into this new world that even she was still struggling to understand. But then Circe had been born only three years later, and her arrival had completely shattered the fragile sense of relief Thalora had been clinging to.
