His worry was unnecessary, but it touched her all the sa. The danger they now faced was entirely of her own making, yet he was still offering her a choice in the matter. That was sothing her father had never done. That alone made him a thousand tis better than the man who had raised her.
"Take to him," she said without hesitation. Her voice was steady, and resolute. "I want to help in any way I can."
She had put them in a precarious position, and she would do whatever it took to get them out of it.
Ragnar gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. "Lord Corvin was not in a pleasant mood when I left the parlour," he warned. "I know his ways. He may try to provoke you into confessing." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Do not fall for his tricks."
Before she could respond, he leaned down and kissed her softly. "Let handle this for us."
The mont Circe entered the parlour, Corvin’s sharp gaze locked onto her. He rose from his seat and bowed, his movents polished and respectful. When he straightened, his eyes lingered on her, narrowing slightly as he studied her face. A mont passed, then he let out a quiet, almost amused chuckle.
"Co to think of it," Corvin said thoughtfully, "your wife does look rather different from the person I saw."
Ragnar and Circe shared a quick, loaded glance. Her head tilted just enough for him to notice, a nearly imperceptible shake.
He was lying.
The exchange lasted no more than a second.
Why was Corvin lying now? What had happened before they arrived that made him change his tone so abruptly?
The questions echoed in Ragnar’s mind, but he kept his expression perfectly composed. Instead, he offered Corvin a wide, beatific smile and decided to play along.
"As I said earlier," Ragnar replied smoothly, "it seems this was all a simple misunderstanding. I do apologize for the things I insinuated before." His smile never faltered. "Please tell , how would you like to make it up to you? Surely there is sothing you have had your eye on."
There was very little Ragnar would not do to ensure Circe’s safety, and bribery was certainly not beneath him.
Corvin smiled, clearly turning the offer over in his mind. "I would never wish to impose upon your kindness, Your Highness."
"You cannot impose when I am the one offering," Ragnar said easily.
He knew this dance well. Corvin was hardly the first man to demand compensation in exchange for silence, and he certainly would not be the last. Still, Ragnar knew it was better to tread carelessly.
A gleam entered Corvin’s eyes. "My grandson recently joined the army and was posted to the border. Despite his obvious skill, he remains only a step above a fresh recruit." He sighed, feigning humility. "There is nothing I desire more than to see him rise through the ranks, just as you once did."
"That is a small request," Ragnar said without missing a beat. "I will see what can be done to help your son advance and receive whatever support he requires." His tone shifted subtly. "But before that, answer this—how many people did you tell about what you claim to have seen yesterday?"
"No one," Corvin answered promptly. "You are the first I told."
Ragnar glanced at Circe. She gave the slightest nod, barely a dip of her chin.
"And did anyone know you were coming here this morning when you left your ho?" Ragnar asked.
"No."
Once again, Circe nodded.
Ragnar smiled.
Lord Corvin did not realize it yet, but his answers had sealed his fate.
"Then it is settled," Ragnar said pleasantly as he stepped closer. "This was a very simple matter to resolve. We have known one another for far too long to allow such trivial issues to create unnecessary complications."
Corvin nodded eagerly. "Yes, of course."
Ragnar’s smile did not waver. "Allow to walk you to the front entrance. My guards ntioned you arrived on horseback."
"Yes," Corvin replied. "I much prefer it to sitting in a stuffy carriage."
Ragnar escorted him back the way they ca. Monts later, he stood outside in the biting cold, watching as Corvin mounted his horse and prepared to leave, unaware that coming here would be the last mistake he would ever make.
Corvin offered him a gracious smile before turning and making his way toward the towering iron gates.
Ragnar’s smile fell away instantly the mont Corvin was out of sight. Whatever warmth he showed before now hardened into sothing cold and calculating.
Ragnar stepped toward one of the guards stationed at the entrance, his voice low enough that it would not carry. "Follow him," he ordered calmly. "If he so much as veers toward the palace, kill him."
The guard nodded without hesitation.
***
The first arrow hissed past Corvin’s ear, close enough that he felt the sharp rush of air against his skin. His horse jolted violently beneath him, muscles bunching as the arrow struck the dirt directly ahead, embedding itself with a dull thud.
Heart hamring, Corvin twisted in the saddle, scanning the treeline on either side of the road. The forest stood unnervingly still, offering no sign of an attacker.
Another arrow flew. Then another. Each missed him by re inches.
The horse whinnied loudly, panic overtaking it as it surged forward. It bucked hard, reared abruptly, and Corvin was torn from the saddle. His body was flung sideways, crashing into the ground with a sickening crack. A scream ripped from his throat as white-hot pain exploded through his shoulder.
Before he could even draw breath, the horse ca down on him. Hooves slamd into his chest and neck, crushing the air from his lungs as arrows continued to rain down around them. All he felt was agony. Then it all went dark.
Just as suddenly as it had begun, the arrows ceased.
The horse, blind with terror, bolted down the road, its pounding hooves fading into the distance.
Corvin did not move. He lay sprawled in the ground, his body twisted unnaturally. Dead.
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