Free Web NovelChapter 47: Chapter 47
Ragnar pushed open the door to his chambers and stepped inside without slowing, his boots thudding against the stone floor. Behind him, Circe remained unmoving in the doorway, her figure framed by the light spilling in from the hallway.
He shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair, then turned to look back at her when he noticed she hadn’t followed him in.
"Aren’t you coming in?" he asked, brows furrowing slightly when she still didn’t move.
But Circe stayed rooted to the spot, her shoulders squared and her arms hanging stiff by her sides, as if bracing herself for something.
"You said you’d change our sleeping arrangements," she said, reminding him of the conversation they had after she returned from his library. Her voice was firm despite the tension that clung to her like armor.
He turned away from her and headed towards the dresser at the other end of the bedroom, pulling open one of the drawers and began sifting through its contents. He didn’t even look at her as he spoke.
" I said I was going to reconsider it. I never promised to change anything."
Circe’s thought came to a screeching halt. Her eyes hardened.
" What?" She asked. Not because she hadn’t heard what he said. But because she wanted to give him an opportunity to backtrack and amend his statement. Her fingers flexed at her sides, curling into fists and then releasing, over and over again.
" I never promised you anything. I said I would think about it and I have. My answer is no." Ragnar’s voice was hard as nails.
Circe blinked slowly, as if those words needed time to settle in her mind.
" Oh," She said softly, almost to herself. Her eyes lost focus for a heartbeat, staring at nothing at all. There was no shouting, no furious tirade like he half-expected. She simply stepped forward, her feet crossing the threshold with quiet purpose, the soft click of her shoes tapping against the polished stone floor.
Ragnar didn’t turn around, but his senses sharpened, tracking her movements from the corner of his eye. He saw her approach the vanity, her gaze drifting across the room, first the bed, then the side table, searching for something. Her shoulders stiffened when her eyes landed on the delicate vase perched on the edge of the vanity. A small, fragile thing filled with fresh wildflowers.
He saw her eyes darken with resolve
Then, without hesitation, she strode toward it, snatched the vase with one swift motion, drew her arm back, and hurled it at him with everything she had, aiming straight for his head.
The vase soared through the air, a blur of color and glass. He ducked just in time, the sharp wind of its passing grazing the side of his head. A heartbeat later, it exploded against the wall behind him with a thunderous crash, sending shards of glass raining down on the floor.
Silence followed. It was tense and ringing.
Ragnar straightened slowly, his pulse pounding in his ears. He didn’t speak, neither did she.
He stared at her, stunned into silence, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and simmering outrage. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as though struggling to make sense of the sudden shift in her demeanor. But Circe didn’t flinch. She held her chin high, her spine straight with defiance as she moved further into the bed chamber, her every step deliberate and slow, like a predator stalking wounded prey.
She let her fingers drift across the carved edges of the furniture, chairs, a chest, the vanity, leaving invisible trails behind, each movement filled with a chilling grace. There wasn’t a hint of anger on her face. There wasn’t much of anything at all, just cold unwavering focus. Silence lingered in the air. It was the kind of silence that screamed, a calm that promised chaos. Her gaze swept the room with eerie precision until it landed on a silver candelabra resting on the side table.
Ragnar saw the exact moment she noticed it. Her focus sharpened and her eyes lingered on the object just a second too long.
"That’s enough." He snapped, his voice low but tight with growing frustration. It wasn’t a plea. It was a command. One borne from nerves rapidly unraveling.
But Circe didn’t stop. She wasn’t anywhere close to being finished, and somewhere deep down, Ragnar must have known that.
She wasn’t here to throw a tantrum or weep into her hands. She had never been the sort to do so. Circe had always been a woman of action and the steel shackles the royal family had on her wouldn’t change that fact. No, she was here to make a point and she would make damn sure he understood it. He might have held the keys to her prison, but she still had her pride, her will, her fire. She would not be toyed with, not by him, not by anyone in Lamora. Most of all, she would not be made a fool of under the pretense of false kindness and promises.
He needed to learn this deeply, painfully even. Before her temper snapped entirely. Because if he didn’t, if he kept pushing and pulling as if her spirit were something to be bent at his convenience, she feared she might truly lose control. And if that happened, she wouldn’t need a weapon. She would kill him with her bare hands, in a fit of blinding rage, before he ever got the chance to help her or her brother escape this cursed kingdom.
Circe wrapped her fingers around the candelabra, testing its weight in her hand. It was heavier than the vase and was bound to do more damage on impact. Without a word, she launched it at him, this time with more force than the first.
Ragnar barely dodged it with how close it came to hitting him square in the face. He darted away at the very last second, causing the projectile to miss its mark. ƒгeewёbnovel.com
Circe let out an annoyed huff, reaching for her next weapon but he was quicker. He closed the gap between them and snatched her hand away before it could make contact.
Anger flashed in her eyes. She tried to wrench her hand away but he tightened his grip.
