Circe walked beside Ragnar with her hand tucked comfortably into his, taking leisurely steps as they returned from escorting Thalora and Rowen to the royal guest chambers prepared for them. The peace that had surrounded them all day still lingered between them like sunlight refusing to fade.

Ragnar had scarcely let go of her once since.

Every so often his thumb brushed absentmindedly over her knuckles, and whenever she glanced toward him she found him already looking at her with that same happiness that had remained on his face since the crowns had been placed upon their heads.

King and queen.

The words still felt new. Strange.

Wonderful.

Circe found herself smiling again just thinking about it.

There had been so much darkness surrounding them for so long that moments like this almost felt unreal. Light and peaceful.

Ragnar stopped walking just as they turned down another hall.

The change in him was immediate.

So immediate that Circe nearly stumbled from the abrupt halt.

Only moments ago joy had been radiating from him. Now it vanished so completely it was as though heavy drapes had been pulled shut across his entire face. His expression hardened into something indecipherable.

Circe frowned and followed his gaze forward.

Morana stood at the far end of the hallway.

For a moment nobody spoke.

The woman remained perfectly still dressed plainly compared to the nobles wandering the palace halls, yet she carried herself with poised and grace. Her eyes were fixed entirely on Ragnar.

And the way she looked at him—

Circe recognized it instantly. It was that of aching affection and longing.

The kind of love that sat too close to the surface and was generally difficult to hide.

Circe looked at Ragnar with concern.

He was staring at Morana with a dark look in his eyes. Anger was certainly there, buried beneath the rigid stillness of his face, but there was something else too. Something that looked like hurt.

"Ragnar," Circe called gently.

Her fingers closed carefully around his arm, but he barely seemed to notice. His attention remained fixed on the woman standing before him.

To Morana’s credit, she did not shrink beneath the intensity of his unrelenting stare.

She looked nervous, certainly, but not fearful.

Perhaps even slightly hopeful.

And somehow that seemed to anger Ragnar even more.

Circe moved slightly closer to him, lowering her voice so only he could hear.

"You do not have to speak to her now if you are not ready to."

His jaw tightened.

At last his eyes shifted toward her.

Concern shone plainly in Circe’s gaze, but there was understanding there too. She was giving him an escape if he wanted one. Telling him silently that it was acceptable to walk away from this, acceptable to face it another day.

Ragnar held her gaze for a long moment before slowly shaking his head.

No.

He was not leaving.

Circe studied him carefully before speaking again, quieter this time.

"Would you rather I give you privacy?"

For the first time since seeing Morana, hesitation crossed his face.

His eyes searched hers briefly, uncertainty flickering behind the hard mask he wore. He did not know where a conversation with Morana would lead. He did not even know what he himself might say once it began.

The emotions inside him had been festering for too long and perhaps some part of him did not want Circe to witness what they might turn him into.

After several seconds, he finally gave a single nod.

Circe squeezed his arm gently before stepping away from him. She lingered for only a moment longer, her eyes moving between mother and son with visible unease, before quietly retreating down the hall to give them space. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The instant she disappeared around the corner, the silence between Ragnar and Morana deepened.

Morana took a few tentative steps forward.

"Ragnar—"

"What are you doing here?" The sharpness of his voice cut straight through her words. Ragnar’s expression remained carved from stone as he stared at her. "Who allowed you inside?"

His tone was clipped and curt, stripped entirely of warmth.

Yet even as he looked at her with open displeasure, something inside him twisted painfully. Because of the way she was looking at him.

That look.

Gods, he knew that look.

He had seen it earlier when Thalora looked at Circe.

Affection.

A mother’s love.

The kind he had spent most of his life pretending he no longer wanted.

And now it was directed at him. From her, the woman who had abandoned him.

It made anger surge hot beneath his skin.

Morana clasped her hands tightly before her. "I asked permission to remain within the palace grounds after the ordeal with Nheera. The guards informed me that you had not forbidden it."

Ragnar let out a humorless laugh.

"So you decided to stay."

"I wanted to see you."

"You already have."

Her face fell faintly at the coldness in his voice, though she still did not retreat.

"I know you hate me."

"I do not know you well enough to hate you."

The words landed harder than shouting would have.

Morana’s eyes glistened slightly, but she held his gaze.

Ragnar looked away first.

His chest felt tight. Painfully tight.

Because despite everything, despite the betrayal burning inside him, curiosity still clawed at him relentlessly.

Why? Why had she left him?

Why had he been so easy to abandon?

He had been barely more than an infant when she left him behind with the old farming couple who took her in during her pregnancy.

Less than a year old. Not even old enough to remember her face.

"You hid the truth from me while standing in my home. While speaking to me as though you were a stranger."

Morana swallowed hard. "I know."

"Did you enjoy it?" he asked bitterly. "Watching me walk around ignorant while you stood there knowing exactly who I was to you?"

Genuine hurt crossed her face then. "No."

Ragnar scoffed and looked away again, running a hand over his jaw.

He should have walked away.

Perhaps he still could.

But the questions inside him had become too large to ignore now.

Finally, after a long silence, he spoke again.

"You may explain yourself," he said flatly. "But do not mistake that for forgiveness."

Morana nodded immediately. "I would never expect forgiveness from you."

He did not soften. "Nor does this mean I intend to allow you into my life."

"I know," she repeated softly.

Ragnar folded his arms across his chest and finally fell quiet enough for her to speak.