Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 434: Chapter 434

But how had they even discovered the toxin from the herbs? It should have been nearly impossible to detect without careful examination. The physician hadn’t even arrived yet to conduct a proper assessment of Circe’s condition. So how, exactly, had they uncovered what she had done?

The questions circled relentlessly in Mirelle’s mind as she made her hurried exit. Her steps were quick at first, nearly frantic, but she forced herself to slow to a brisk, controlled walk as she approached a nearby guard post. Drawing too much attention now would only hasten suspicion. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, her posture relaxed, never once faltering.

Soon, she was out of the manor entirely, the towering structure receding behind her as she made her way toward the gates.

She had already prepared an excuse, carefully crafted and rehearsed in her mind. If the guards questioned her, she would tell them she needed to return home to check on her sick brother.

It was a believable lie, rooted just enough in truth to pass without scrutiny. By virtue of her position at the estate, she was allowed to visit her two younger siblings who lived at the very edge of town, in conditions far removed from the manor’s lavish opulence.

Every Thursday, she was permitted to visit them, returning at dawn on Friday. As far as she knew, she alone among the staff had been granted such a privilege, likely because of her role as Circe’s lady’s maid.

The only problem was that today was not Thursday.

It was Wednesday.

When she reached the gates, she lifted her hand and signaled to one of the guards. The man she had indicated approached her without hesitation.

"How may I help you?" he asked politely, though his brows knit slightly. "It isn’t Thursday."

He offered her a warm, familiar smile. This particular guard had always been kind to her, perhaps overly so and Mirelle suspected his gentleness stemmed from an interest that went beyond mere friendliness.

Some of the maids indulged in secret relationships with the guards, seeking comfort in stolen moments and warm embraces after long, grueling days. But Mirelle had never been interested in such attachments. They were distractions and unnecessary complications.

"I wanted to go home," she said, returning his smile with one of her own, softening her expression to appear both earnest and concerned. "The last time I was there, my brother was unwell. I thought I should check on him, see how he fares now. I asked her highness this morning, and she granted me permission. I will be back before sunset, I promise."

The guard hesitated, clearly mulling over her words. For a brief moment, doubt flickered across his face but then he nodded. If the princess had given her leave, who was he to question it?

He gestured to another guard, and moments later, the heavy gates groaned as they were pushed open, inch by inch. The iron barrier parted slowly, revealing the path beyond.

Freedom.

Mirelle did not wait. She slipped through the opening and moved quickly down the path, resisting the urge to break into a run too soon. Only when she had put some distance between herself and the estate did she allow her pace to quicken.

Then—

"Mirelle! Stop her!" Nieah’s voice rang out sharply behind her, cutting through the air like a blade.

Mirelle felt her breath hitched. Her heart leapt violently into her throat. She quickened her steps again, panic now clawing its way through her chest. She had thought she would have more time, at least enough to reach into town unnoticed. But she had been terribly mistaken. freeweɓnøvel.com

Seeing no other choice, she veered abruptly off the path and plunged into the dense cluster of trees that surrounded the estate. Snow crunched beneath her shoes as she ran, the thick drifts slowing her progress with every step.

Behind her, voices rose. The unmistakable sound that she was being pursued.

Not long after, she heard the heavy thud of footsteps, closing in far too quickly. Nieah must have convinced the guards to chase her. Still, Mirelle ran. She ran even as her lungs burned with each ragged breath, even as her legs screamed in protest, threatening to give out beneath her. She ran when her vision began to blur, when her strength faltered, when every instinct begged her to stop. But stopping meant being caught.

And being caught meant—

No.

She pushed forward.

The voices of her pursuers echoed through the woods, closer now. She tried to change direction, weaving between trees, attempting to throw them off her trail but it was useless. They were vampires, stronger and faster than her. And they were gaining on her.

Her heartbeat pounded so loudly it drowned out nearly everything else. So consumed was she by the chase that she failed to hear another sound approaching.

At the last moment, she made a sharp turn, intending to break from the tree line and head in an entirely different direction.

But just as she emerged, she stopped abruptly.

Standing before her, blocking her path like an immovable force, was Ragnar mounted atop his warhorse. The animal snorted, its breath curling in the cold air, its hooves shifting impatiently against the frozen ground. Ragnar himself looked disheveled, as though he had ridden hard and fast to reach this place. Strands of his hair were out of place, his clothing marked with the haste of his return.

But it was his expression that held her still.

His eyes were wild. Furious. Almost unhinged.

He looked down at her as she struggled to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. His face was a mask of barely restrained rage.

In all her time at the estate, Mirelle had never seen him like this. Never seen him so furious.

"Where is my wife?" he demanded, his voice sharp and cutting, like the crack of thunder. "Something has happened to her, and you are out here doing what, exactly?"

His vicious gaze bore into her.

"I employed you to tend to her needs," he continued, his tone dropping into something colder, more dangerous. "So tell me, why are you not at her side?"

His anger pressed down on her like a

storm, holding her firmly in place.

Ragnar had a long list of duties to attend to when he left the estate early that morning. His first stop was to survey his lands beyond Amris and check on his tenants, many of whom were farmers and other working-class folk. While he was there, troubling news reached him—two recent attacks had struck rural communities in the east, carried out by fae beasts.

When his visit came to an end, he made his way back into Amris to complete the rest of his tasks for the day. Yet the news of the attacks lingered heavily in his mind, casting a shadow over his thoughts. It was not something he could ignore. He would have to look into it further and bring the matter before the king. Something had to be done to contain the threat and prevent further devastation.

He had just concluded a meeting with Lord Gracil Arnild when a sudden, sharp pain assaulted him without warning. It struck deep and vicious, enough to make him stiffen where he stood. He knew instantly that it was not his own. It was Circe’s. His thoughts snapped back to that moment in the cave, when he had been seized by an unbearable ache, right before he felt their bond fracture.

That memory alone was enough to send him racing back home, panic clawing its way up his throat as a flood of possibilities rushed through his mind. Each one was worse than the last. Though he could still feel Circe’s distress, it had lessened somewhat, but not enough to ease the dread tightening in his chest.

Just as he came within a short distance of the estate, a figure burst from the treeline ahead. The mere sight of her there while his wife was in pain, was enough to ignite a fierce, immediate anger within him.

Yet Mirelle said nothing in her defense. Her eyes darted wildly around her surroundings, as though she were weighing her chances of escape. It was clear she was considering whether she could outrun him and his horse.

Before she could act on that thought, four of Ragnar’s guards emerged suddenly from the treeline, moving quickly as they surrounded her. One of them seized her arm with a firm grip to prevent her from fleeing. She struggled fiercely against him, her voice rising into frantic screams as she demanded to be released.

"Nieah said a kitchen maid caught her poisoning Her Highness’s tea this morning," one of the guards reported before Ragnar could even voice his demand for answers.

Ragnar’s face darkened instantly, his fury swelling into something he could scarcely control. "Chain her up and throw her in one of the cells."

He wanted to punish her right there and then but his wife needed him more.