Ragnar shut the chamber door behind him, the frustration in his chest flaring again when he saw the guard that stood waiting in the hallway. He was soone that worked closely with Casilo. And there was no doubt in Ragnar’s mind that the guard was sent by Casilo.
"My apologies, your highness" the guard said quickly. "Captain Minovo sent these. He said they could not wait until morning."
He extended a leather-bound folder bulging with sealed notes, field reports.
Ragnar felt his right eye twitch at the sight of what the guard held. He didn’t need to open them to know what the contents were. The movents near the southern border, more land disputes, and likely an update on the queen’s recent erratic behavior because Casilo always kept him abreast of everything that went on in the palace. Problems that had been simring for days had finally reached his doorstep.
After Ragnar had proven himself on the battlefield and built a distinguished military career,the king rewarded him by granting him control over a stretch of southern territory, Amris included.
Ragnar clamped down on the impulse to snarl and simply nodded instead. "Fine. I’ll handle it."
The guard bowed and fled as though grateful to escape the prince’s foul mood. He would have found himself suddenly unemployed had Ragnar been a man with a harsh temper.
Ragnar strode down the hall toward his study, the heat that had raged in his blood monts earlier now warring with irritation. He had wanted nothing more than to return to Circe, to the softness of her body against his, to the look she gave him that made restraint feel impossible but duty rarely cared for timing.
Hours slipped by as he sifted through the reports, signing off on directives, drafting responses, and reorganizing Casilo’s chaotic pile of docunts into sothing that made sense. By the ti he closed the last folder and rubbed the tension from his temples, the candles had burned low and the manor had fallen into that deep, heavy silence only found late into the night.
He exhaled slowly.
She would be asleep by now. He would feel even more wretched if he had made her wait up for him for this long.
He tried not to let the disappointnt settle too hard in his chest as he made his way back to their chamber.
When he pushed open the door, the room was dim, lit only by a single lantern she always left on before she went to sleep. The soft glow fell across the bed and across Circe’s prone form.
She lay under the covers, still dressed in the gown she had worn earlier, her hair loose, her breathing slow and even. She looked small like that, curled on one side with her hand tucked beneath her cheek. Peaceful and completely unaware of how thoroughly she tugged at the deepest parts of him.
Ragnar stood by the door for a long mont, simply watching her. The knot of frustration inside him loosened, replaced by sothing warm and disarming that settled low in his chest.
She must have been exhausted from earlier to fall asleep so easily.
He didn’t want to disturb her rest, but he also knew she needed to be out of that dress. It couldn’t be comfortable to sleep beneath so many layers of fabric, especially with her corset still cinched tight. There was no way she’d find any real rest like this.
He walked toward the bed and sat beside her.
"Circe," he murmured, brushing his fingers lightly across her shoulder.
She made a small sound, barely awake. Ragnar coaxed her upright, supporting her with one arm as she blinked sleepily at him, hazy confusion in her eyes.
"You’ll sleep better without the dress," he said quietly.
There had been a ti, not long ago, when doing sothing like this would have been unthinkable. He would have called a maid or Nieah without hesitation to help her out of the dress because Circe would have been scandalized if he had so much as untied a single ribbon from her body.
But things had changed over these last few days. She had unabashedly let him see her in her shift, let him tend to her bruise, let him touch her with a trust that still left him a little breathless.
Tonight, helping her out of her dress felt like a small thing in comparison to all the lines they crossed during the carriage ride.
His deft fingers expertly loosened the front laces, then he shifted behind her to work on the ties.
She didn’t resist. Her head simply dipped, eyes half-closed as he eased her out of the layers of fabric, leaving her in her soft, white shift.
"Lie down," he coaxed.
She followed the gentle pressure of his hand until she settled back onto the mattress.
Her eyes stayed on him, heavy with sleep. "I fell asleep," she whispered, voice thick with exhaustion.
Ragnar only smiled. "You should sleep if you’re tired."
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He liked kissing her. He liked that he could now do it whenever he wanted.
He folded up her dress and draped it over a chair
Within monts, her eyes fluttered closed and she drifted off again.
Ragnar moved away from the bed to change out of the clothes he wore, stripping down to sothing far more comfortable.
When he was done, his gaze drifted to the chair he had slept in every night. The sensible thing would be to go to it again. But his body protested against the idea.
The empty space beside her drew him like a tide.
Before he had even finished the thought, he found himself moving towards the bed, moving to her. He sat at the edge of the mattress and his gaze found Circe again like an invisible string connected them to each other, always drawing him back to her no matter what. The feelings she tended to evoke in him were sotis too much for re words.
Carefully, he lifted the covers and slid beneath them, keeping space between their bodies as a form of discipline. She needed rest. He would not crowd her.
But sleep had a mind of its own.
Sowhere in the middle of the night, Circe shifted with a quiet sigh and rolled toward him, her body instinctively seeking his warmth. Her head nestled against his shoulder, her hand curled lightly against his chest.
Ragnar stilled, breath caught in his throat. Then, slowly, he let his arm settle around her, the last of his restraint slipping away as she tucked herself closer, soft and trusting in his hold.
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