Free Web NovelChapter 99: Chapter 99
Ragnar didn’t move for a long while, not saying a word. The way he stared at her through narrowed eyes, as if she were the most bewildering creature he had ever encountered, made her think he was about to scoff at her challenge. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
When he was done appraising her, he simply turned on his heel and left without so much as a grunt.
She sat there, stunned, watching his retreating back while her horse’s tail flicked in agitation. Disbelief momentarily silenced every other thought. Her grip tightened on the reins, her gaze fixed on the direction Ragnar had gone.
Circe huffed indignantly. She couldn’t help it. If he didn’t want to participate, he could have just said so instead of walking away without a word.
"It’s not like I was going to force him," she grumbled to herself, nose scrunched in distaste.
She had half a mind to turn and leave as well. The only reason she had challenged him to a race was to prove she was ready for a bigger horse and the next phase of training.
The gold coins would have just been an added bonus.
Circe adored Kena with a fierce passion, and part of her longed to keep the horse forever—to smuggle her out of the manor and hope they got far enough away before Ragnar discovered they were gone. But the other part of her, the part not ruled by sentiment, knew she had to move on to another horse if she truly wanted to improve her skill.
"Beginner-friendly," Ragnar had called Kena, and he’d been right.
Kena was smaller, practically docile compared to the beasts Ragnar and Casilo rode.
After two weeks with Kena, Circe knew she needed something more challenging. Ragnar, who still treated her like fragile porcelain, had refused her request when she told him so.
If he had his way, she would never ride the more intimidating horses on her own.
So she planned to beat him in a race and rub the victory in his face for as long as she could.
Before long, the sound of hooves clopping reached her ears, growing closer with every passing second.
Ragnar appeared, astride a horse slightly bigger than Kena, its glossy black coat gleaming in the sunlight.
"I thought you left." She regretted the words the instant they slipped out, hoping he hadn’t noticed how bothered she sounded. She didn’t care if he stayed or left, at least that’s what she told herself. It had simply caught her off guard when he walked away without a word.
She had grown used to his witty retorts to her verbal jabs, and his silence had felt strange.
" I haven’t ridden this horse in a long while," Ragnar said, patting his mount’s flank, "so I thought— why not indulge my wife’s whims at the same time?" His infuriating smile was back in full force. Confidence shone in his eyes, mirth dancing in the warm brown depths. It was a look she was certain had tempted more than a few court ladies.
Ragnar was the very picture of smugness, and Circe fought the urge to roll her eyes. That would be rude, especially when he went out of his way to practice with her each day when he really didn’t have to.
Her tutors growing up had drilled into her how polite princesses should behave, so she reserved her eye rolls for the moments when Ragnar was being particularly unbearable.
Her sharp tongue, however, could not be restrained.
"You might change your tone in a few minutes when you lose twenty gold coins," she quipped. At that moment, he reminded her of the peacocks her mother once let roam the flower gardens at home, strutting about with chests puffed full of self-importance.
The only difference was that Circe had seen enough of Ragnar to know he wasn’t truly egotistical. He only acted this way around her to test her patience.
Circe guided Kena into a trot without looking back, leaving Ragnar to follow.
"You’re getting a little too interested in my finances lately," he remarked, and Circe was glad he couldn’t see the frown that tugged at her lips.
Months in Lamora had not been enough for her to fully adjust to her new reality. She still struggled with the fact that she had gone from a respected princess of Westeria to someone with barely any agency.
It was why she resorted to these silly wagers with Ragnar, ways of coaxing money out of him. If the chance ever came to escape with Rowen, she would need funds to survive.
"Before we start, I want to add my own terms," Ragnar said from behind her.
Circe huffed. "Of course you do."
Ragnar wasn’t perturbed in the slightest. "If I win, you’ll tell me about the nightmares you keep having."
Circe stiffened, her fingers tightening around the reins.
"Why should I tell you anything?" she asked, still refusing to look at him.
"Because it’s hard watching you toss and turn every night without knowing what causes your distress."
His words stirred a mix of unwelcome emotions.
"They’re just dreams, Ragnar," she muttered. "You can’t protect me from dreams."
She cast a fleeting glance at him before urging Kena into a gallop, gathering momentum. The wind whipped against her face and hair as she surged forward.
It was the fastest she had ever gone on Kena, and yet Ragnar kept pace with ease. For a moment, they were neck and neck, each straining to gain the lead.
Circe heard nothing but the pounding of hooves and the wild hammering of her heart. She glanced at Ragnar and instantly regretted it.
He wasn’t even focusing on the path. With his reins steady in hand, he had the audacity to glance at her with a cheeky smile, a cheap ploy meant to distract her.
And it worked.
Her lips parted in outrage as Ragnar surged ahead, taking the lead.
Circe urged Kena faster, but the little mare was already giving her all just to keep up.
Ragnar must have felt her scathing glares burning into him, because he let out a deep, bellowing laugh. Somehow, she knew it wasn’t meant to be mean-spirited, he simply found the situation amusing.
He looked more like a lord on a leisurely ride than someone engaged in a heated race. He wasn’t even taking it seriously, and yet he was still faster.
They rounded the estate, racing along the paved paths but avoiding the forest that bordered the land. Racing through trees and low branches would have been too tedious.
Not far now. The starting point was straight ahead.
Ragnar was still in the lead.
So close, yet too far.
She had no chance of winning. Her fears were confirmed when Ragnar reached their starting point seconds before she did.
Circe let out a heavy exhale, slowing her horse. She wasn’t angry—challenging a seasoned soldier trained to ride war-steeds had always been a bold gamble. Still, she was disappointed about losing the gold, especially knowing how much it would have helped her and Rowen. freewebnøvel.coɱ
She had lost to Ragnar, and the money no longer mattered. But she would find another chance, either by escorting him to another event or by thinking up a new way to wring coin out of him.
Ragnar dismounted, and in the next moment he was beside her, offering his hand.
It was a habit now, he did it after every lesson. She had grown so used to it that it no longer irked her like it had in the past.
"You did well, princess," he said, still smiling as she placed her hand in his instead of batting it away.
"Not well enough to win," she muttered under her breath.
"All good things take time. Tomorrow, you’ll start practicing with him." He gestured toward his horse with his free hand.
The words dulled the sting of defeat. At least she would finally move on from sweet, gentle Kena.
That small triumph faded, however, when she noticed how intently Ragnar was watching her.
His voice was low, almost gruff, when he spoke.
"My prize, Circe. I’ve more than earned it."
