Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 462: Chapter 462

Circe lay propped against the silk cushions of her bed, the heavy velvet drapes of her chamber drawn enough to let in the soft wash of afternoon light that settled gently across the polished floors and the carved edges of the furniture.

The evaluation had gone well. Just as it had the time before, and the time before that.

Morana straightened up from where she had been looming over Circe and began gathering her things with that brisk way that Circe had come to associate with her.

"Everything is progressing as it should," she said, and her voice carried the same cerrainty it always did when she delivered good news. "The baby is healthy. You are healthy. There is nothing to be concerned about."

Circe allowed a smile to curve her lips. The relief never got old, no matter how many times she heard it. "Good," she said. "That is good."

Her strength was as it used to be before becoming pregnant but It didn’t matter as long as her baby was alright.

She watched Morana move around the room, tucking her things away, it was during the evaluation Circe noticed something odd. Morana was not herself today.

It was difficult to name exactly what it was, Morana was still thorough, still professional, still spoke with her usual directness whenever she addressed Circe but there was something that felt off about her today.

Morana who always seemed at ease with herself now seemed much more withdrawn.

Circe said nothing at first, simply watching as Morana reached for her bag and turned to face her.

"I have a matter I need to attend to," she said. "It is urgent. I wanted you to know in advance that I may not be present for the next few evaluations. The baby will be fine. Nothing will happen in the time that I am away. I would not leave if I believed otherwise."

She meant every word of it. Circe could hear that clearly enough. But it did nothing to address why Morana was behaving oddly. Ragnar’s constant paranoia had rubbed off on her and after the ordeal with Mirelle, Circe couldn’t help being cautious.

"Is something the matter?" Circe asked.

Morana shook her head immediately. "No."

Her response came too quickly.

Circe opened her mouth but Morana was already turning, moving with the kind of purpose that discouraged further conversation. In her haste, her arm caught the edge of the bedside table. Whatever had been resting there went over the edge and hit the floor with a sharp crack, shattering on impact.

Morana went still for a moment. Then she turned and looked at what she had done, eyes widening slightly.

"I apologize," she said quietly, and she was already crouching down before she finished the sentence, gathering the broken pieces. "I apologize, that was careless of me."

She picked up one shard and then another, and Circe could see the line of her shoulders, the way she pressed her lips together each time her fingers closed around a new piece.

Circe slid off the edge of the bed and lowered herself down beside her.

"You don’t need to—" Morana started.

"I am already here."

"You are a princess, you shouldn’t be—"

"Morana."

Her name, spoken in that firm, no-nonsense tone was enough to halt the rest of Morana’s protests.

They worked in silence for a moment, and it was while Circe was reaching for another piece that she saw it. The inside of Morana’s wrist, exposed where her sleeve had shifted. There was a scar there, pale and slightly jagged.

Circe’s hand slowed.

She had seen that scar before. She was almost certain of it. The shape of it, the placement. Something in the back of her mind reached toward the memory of when she had seen it before but it was just out of reach.

"Have you always had that?" she asked.

Morana looked up. Her eyes dropped to her own wrist, then back to Circe. "The scar?" A small furrow between her brows. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

Circe looked at it a moment longer, then shook her head. "It is nothing."

Morana held her gaze for a beat, then returned to the task at hand.

But it was not nothing to Circe. And deep inside her, that small interaction had set something irrevocable into motion as another piece of the puzzle slid into place.

Morana dusted her hands and gave a final, hurried nod. "I’ll send word when I return. Rest well, Your Highness."

Then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her, the sound lingering in the quiet that followed. freewebnøvel.com

Circe remained on the floor a moment longer, her gaze fixed on the empty space where Morana had been, still pondering the strange interaction.

***

By the time Ragnar reached the clearing, the hunt had already gathered.

From a distance, he counted no fewer than thirty riders stationed across the open stretch of land. Some sat astride their horses, while others had already dismounted, holding onto the rein of their steeds. Each of them were dressed like warriors, with their sheathed swords strapped to their waist.

Ragnar did not slow his approach and behind him were six other riders. Even without looking, he could feel the way the air shifted around them.

When he finally drew close enough, he pulled his horse to a stop at the front of the gathering. The animal shifted beneath him, its tail flicking sharply in agitation, hooves stamping once against the ground.

The man at the head of the group remained mounted.

He regarded Ragnar for a moment before inclining his head in a gesture that was respectful.

"My name is Dougol Kolson," he introduced himself."It is a pleasure to embark on this journey with you, your highness."

Without waiting for a response, he gestured slightly to the two men flanking him. "These are Daekar and Gadiel."

Both men offered nods and words of acknowledgment.

Then as if on cue, one by one, the men’s attention moved past Ragnar and settled on the riders behind him, on the six figures who had not spoken a word since their arrival and the unease of Dougol and his men were palpable.

It showed in the way their hands tightened around the reins of their horses, and the way their eyes lingered on them far too long.

Those were the only correct reactions when in the presence of demons.

Dougol’s gaze hardened. Even his expression had changed. The ease that had been there before was gone, replaced by something far less welcoming.

His eyes moved over each of the six riders before returning to Ragnar.

"Who are they?" he asked, no softness left in his tone. "And why have you brought them here?"

Ragnar did not miss the edge beneath the question.

"They ride with me," Ragnar said. "They will be joining the hunt."

"They are strong," he added, his voice even. "Stronger than most men you’ve gathered here. If we are to track and kill feral fae beasts, then we would do well to increase our chances of success. We are stronger in numbers."

For a moment, it seemed as though Dougol might argue. The way his jaw tightened, the slight shift in his posture. The protest was there, already formed, sitting just on the tip of his tongue. This had not been discussed. Not agreed upon. And those six newcomers were certainly not expected.

But in the end, the man said nothing, forcing himself to swallow the words down.

His expression settled into something, though the irritation remained visible in his eyes.

But It was still acceptance, forced as it might be.

The rest of the men took their cue from him, even if their discomfort lingered.

No one spoke against Ragnar but no one welcomed the newcomers either.

The tension stayed, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Ragnar didn’t seem to mind it. He had not brought the demons with him to earn their approval.

His gaze moved briefly over the gathered hunters. Faces he recognized. Others he did not.

He knew that any one of them could turn on him. Any one of them could have been sent there to spy on him and report back to the queen.

Multiple speculations had raced through his mind since he received the queen’s missive ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

He did not trust the members of the hunt and for good reason too.

He did not trust the circumstances that had brought them all here.

And most of all, he did not trust any of them to help him when he needed it.

The demons behind him shifted slightly, as though they sensed the direction of his thoughts.

They were not here for the hunt. They were here for him as a precaution.

Because Ragnar knew better than to ride into uncertainty alone, not when the blade meant for his back could come from any direction.

He urged his horse to move, his expression giving nothing away.

"We should head out," he said.

No one argued, as they prepared for what waited for them ahead.