Free Web NovelChapter 439: Chapter 439
"I can serve myself," Circe protested, her brows knitting slightly as she watched him carefully plate a portion of the mouthwatering meal, clearly intending to feed her with his own hands.
Since she had woken almost a day ago, she had barely been able to go more than a few minutes without Ragnar constantly hovering over her.
He only wanted to care for her and under different circumstances, she might have allowed herself to bask in the attention he so freely gave. But she couldn’t, not when his concern bordered on suffocating.
"I never said you couldn’t," Ragnar replied, unfazed by her protest or even the glare she hurled in his direction. "But I also want to ensure that every one of your needs and desires is met." His gaze softened as it settled on her, warmth flickering in his eyes. "So please, indulge me this once, my love."
A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, one that suggested that he knew he had won the argument.
Circe let out an annoyed huff and it served more as a cover for the fluttering sensation his words stirred in her chest, a feeling she stubbornly refused to acknowledge in the moment. She wondered, not for the first time, if his current behavior stemmed from how she had nearly miscarried their child but knowing the kind of man Ragnar was, he would have acted this way regardless.
He would have hovered over her all the same the moment he learned she was carrying his child.
Even as she rolled her eyes at him, she had to bite back a smile so he wouldn’t think she was accepting his overbearing nature.
"We have found you a midwife. The physician recommended her," Ragnar said as he climbed onto the bed beside her, balancing the plate with ease. Yet there was a subtle shift in his tone that immediately caught Circe’s attention.
"You don’t sound very pleased by that," she observed, studying him closely.
"No, it’s not like that at all, I assure you." He hesitated briefly, as though weighing his words. "It’s just... I don’t quite know what to make of her. The first time she was here, I learned that she is half demon." freewebnoveℓ.com
Circe fixed him with a pointed look.
"You don’t like her... because she is a half demon," she stated flatly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "When you are also a half demon." ƒrēewebnovel.com
The accusation hung in the air without needing to be spoken outright. The press of her lips and the arch of her brow conveyed it clearly enough. He was being a hypocrite.
Ragnar chuckled, as he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. In truth, when he had first met Morana Silhara, there had been something about her that unsettled him, something he couldn’t quite name. He did not know her well enough to judge her character, and yet his instincts had seized upon her nature and twisted it into something suspicious.
"I don’t trust her," Ragnar admitted at last as he lifted a piece of food to her lips. "After what Mirelle did to you, I have found it difficult to trust anyone."
Most times, he did not even trust himself to care for her properly. Still, he had not been able to leave her side for long while she was unconscious, and even now, he lingered close, unwilling to be away from her. It was also why he had done very little about Mirelle’s case, leaving her to sit alone in her cell for now.
"When I meet this midwife, I will decide if your distrust is warranted," Circe said gently, reaching up to caress his cheek. "In the meantime, I want you to rest. I can see the exhaustion in your eyes."
He wasn’t surprised by how easily she saw through him. He simply smiled and nodded, knowing it would ease her mind. For now, making her happy and ensuring her safety were the only things that mattered to him.
***
Around midmorning the following day, a knock sounded at the door. Circe already knew who stood on the other side.
Today she was meant to officially meet the woman who would care for her throughout her pregnancy, and she had found herself quietly anticipating this moment since the day before.
Circe knew that Ragnar’s brooding presence, with that ever-present scowl, would do nothing but worry the midwife. If anything, it would only serve to intimidate the poor woman. So, despite his protests, she had chased him out of the room to ensure she could speak to Morana without interruption.
He had grumbled the entire time, dragging his feet as though each step away from her was a personal affront. Even after stepping away from her, he lingered far longer than necessary before finally leaving their chambers, though Circe was certain he had not gone far. Knowing him, he was likely stationed just beyond the door at that very moment.
"Enter," Circe called. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and a woman, whom she assumed to be Morana, stepped inside.
Just before the door closed fully, Circe caught a fleeting glimpse of Ragnar’s face peeking in from the hallway. She bit down on her lip to keep from laughing.
"Your Highness," the woman greeted, lowering her head in a respectful bow. "It is a great pleasure to finally meet you."
Circe offered her a warm smile from where she sat propped against the pillows. Though she looked healthy, the lingering effects of the toxin still wreak havoc on her body, leaving her feeling weak and in need of bed rest. And Ragnar had been all too eager to ensure that she remained confined to her bed.
Even so, her gaze remained sharp and observant as it settled on the woman before her, ready to form her own judgment.
"Thank you, but the pleasure is all mine. Morana Silhara, is it?" Circe asked conversationally.
"Yes, Your Highness," the woman replied, straightening to her full height with poised grace.
The woman’s height was the first thing Circe noticed about her.
She was quite tall, taller than even Circe who had been considered tall for a woman in Westeria. Morana also possessed a striking, almost androgynous beauty, one that blurred the lines between what was traditionally deemed delicate and what was considered handsome. Her features were sharp and defined, as though carved meticulously from marble by the hands of a master sculptor. There was something arresting about her that made it difficult to look away.
