Free Web NovelChapter 72: Chapter 72
The manor was quiet when he returned. The kind of quiet that settled thick in the air, pressing against the walls. It was late and well past midnight. Ragnar suspected that everyone had already gone to bed by now.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Casilo silently walk away, heading toward his own quarters without a word. He looked just as exhausted as Ragnar felt, but neither of them spoke. There was nothing to say.
Ragnar’s footsteps echoed louder than usual in the heavy silence of the house. The sound of his boots against the polished floors accompanied him up the grand staircase as he trudged toward his bedchambers. When he reached the door, he paused for a breath, then turned the handle carefully and pushed it open with as little noise as possible, not wanting to disturb Circe if she was already asleep.
He stepped into the room expecting to see her curled up beneath the covers, already fast asleep. But the bed was empty.
The sheets were smooth and freshly made, the pillows undisturbed, as if no one had laid on them all day. The hearth had long since gone cold. Circe was nowhere to be found.
A low curse slipped from his lips as he stepped inside farther, casting a glance around the room to be certain. There was no sign of her. The air felt too still, too empty.
He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, drawing in a deep breath through his nose, holding it in his chest before letting it out slowly. Of course. He should have known. The fact that he expected something different was foolish.
Since the night he had dragged her kicking and hissing and wholly furious from her brother’s room, Circe had made it her personal mission to disobey him at every turn. Especially when it came to something as seemingly simple as where she slept.
She outright refused to spend the night in the room they shared. No matter how many times he dragged her back, she ignored him. Worse, she actively went out of her way to avoid being found.
As far as Ragnar could tell, she viewed the entire ordeal as a game, a petty battle for control she was determined to win.
He locked up every guest room he could, thinking that might corner her into returning to his room, but it only made her more creative. Each night, she found the most obscure, inconvenient, and downright baffling places to sleep. Once, he discovered her curled up in the pantry between crates of dried fruits and sacks of flour. Another night, he found her in the linen storage, buried beneath blankets.
The most ridiculous one yet had been when he’d caught her asleep in the narrow crawlspace beneath the staircase, legs half dangling out. And yet, she had the audacity to glare at him when he pulled her out by the arm, as if he were the irrational one.
No place in the manor was off-limits. If she could wedge herself into it, she made it a bed.
She changed her hiding spots frequently, never choosing the same one twice. It wasn’t just rebellion, it was strategy. She was trying to frustrate him, to test his limits and force him to chase her. It was her way of getting back at him for deciding to control where she slept. It was her attempt to regain control in a situation where she felt like she had none.
If he wanted to chase her down each night like a hound, then so be it.
Ragnar rubbed a hand over his face, weariness settling deep into his bones. Circe was maddeningly stubborn. He had half a mind to just give up, crawl into bed, and let her do as she pleased. But his feet were already moving, carrying him back into the dimly lit hallway before he even made the decision.
"Where on earth is that infuriating wife of mine?" he muttered under his breath as he strode down the corridor, the light from the sconces flickering off the walls.
Last night he had found her nestled in one of the alcoves of the library, half-buried in an old velvet curtain. It had taken him nearly two hours to find her then. Tonight, he doubted she’d return to the same spot. Circe wasn’t that predictable. She would pick a completely different place, likely more obscure than the last, just to keep him guessing.
He inspected all her previous hiding spots just to be sure that she hadn’t changed her tactics and decided to return to one of them. She hadn’t.
With that aspect out of the way, he began the search in ernest. He made sure to keep his steps light as he looked through the most obscure places he knew in the manor. Beneath the dining table, in the lower kitchen cabinets, behind wine barrels in the cellar. He couldn’t put anything past her.
One of the downsides to owning a sizable property like the manor was the abundance of hiding spots. He searched everywhere he felt would make a good hiding spot based on her past choices but he still couldn’t find her.
His exhaustion began to creep up on him, dragging at his limbs and blurring the edges of his focus. His feet felt heavier with every step, and his eyelids drooped with each passing minute.
There was one place left.
A room she had never dared enter before. Not because it was forbidden, but because it belonged entirely to him. She wouldn’t hide in there. freewebnoveℓ.com
Ragnar paused mid-step, and a quiet chuckle escaped him.
Yes. She would. Circe absolutely would. freeweɓnovel.cѳm
She would do it just to spite him.
With renewed purpose, he spun on his heel and made his way down the opposite corridor toward his study. As he reached the door, he wrapped his fingers around the knob, twisted, and pushed it open.
There she was.
Circe was lounging in his chair like she owned the place. Her head was leaned back against the high comfortable headrest, and her eyes were closed. She looked peaceful, annoyingly so.
A smile tugged at the corners of Ragnar’s lips, tired but amused. He leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest.
Of course. She picked the one night he forgot to lock the study to sneak inside.
She cracked one eye open at the sound of the door creaking, her scowl forming immediately when she saw him.
" You don’t give up, do you?" she muttered, voice thick with sleep and annoyance.
" Never," he replied, fighting the urge to grin.
