Humiliation burned hotter than the sting still lingering against Avarine’s cheek.
She walked quickly through the palace, silk skirts sweeping sharply around her legs while servants hurried out of her path. Her gentle deanor had fractured long before she stepped away from Circe’s presence. Now rage churned so violently inside her that she could barely think straight.
She had been slapped and threatened. Then dismissed like she was so foolish child. Her nails dug painfully into her palms as she descended another staircase.
How dare Circe look down on her that way.
"How dare she stand there wearing a crown that should have been mine." Avarine said through clenched teeth.
Circe stole everything that should have been hers. The man that Avarine loved and the title of queen. Circe took it all.
The mory of Circe’s words replayed again and again in her mind.
Ragnar was never yours.
Her vision blurred beneath the crushing swell of hatred and humiliation burning through her.
If Circe thought she could intimidate her and force her into submission, she was mistaken.
Ragnar deserved to know the truth about the woman he married. He deserved to know the sort of cruel-hearted creature sharing his bed each night while pretending to be so gracious queen before the kingdom.
And unlike Circe, Avarine knew she was the only one who truly loved him..
Without fully realizing it, her feet carried her toward the palace gardens.
The mont she stepped outside, cool afternoon air brushed against her flushed skin. The palace grounds stretched wide before her, stone walkways winding through carefully maintained hedges dusted lightly with snow.
Then her steps slowed.
She spotted Ragnar walking alone several feet ahead.
Avarine stopped imdiately. For one second, she simply stared at him. Even from a distance, he carried himself with the sa confidence and authority that had fascinated her since childhood. Tall. Broad shouldered. The breeze ruffled strands of his dark hair as he moved through the gardens with his hands clasped loosely behind his back.
King. The title still caused a strange fluttering in her stomach.
Ragnar turned slightly toward one of the side paths leading deeper into the gardens toward the alcove. He had favored the secluded corner of the gardens. It was one of Ragnar’s favorite places within the palace grounds, sowhere he had retreated to almost daily since ascending the throne.
It was a habit born in childhood, after Nheera had succeeded in turning nearly everyone against him and deepening his isolation. Here, amongst the flourishing plants, drifting insects, and small animals hidden beneath the greenery, the loneliness never seed quite as stifling.
That very mont, Avarine made a reckless decision.
She gathered her skirts and took the shorter pathway cutting between the hedges.
By the ti Ragnar stepped into the alcove several monts later, she was already there waiting beside the bench.
He noticed her almost imdiately.
Surprise flickered briefly across his face before flattening into sothing unreadable. Then he turned as though intending to leave.
Panic shot through her.
"Your Majesty." She called out.
Ragnar paused.
Avarine stepped forward slightly before he could continue walking away.
"Please," she said softly. "May I have a mont of your ti?"
At first she didn’t think it worked, then slowly, Ragnar looked back at her fully.
There was wariness and suspicion in his gaze now when he looked at her that had never existed before. She tried not to bristle.
"A mont," he said.
She sighed, relieved.
Ragnar remained standing a few places away rather than approaching her fully.
Manipulating others has always been easy. All she needed was a sad pout, a guileless smile and a well tid flutter of her lashes and she could have anyone in the palm of her hand.
The only person that had seen straight through her charade was Circe.
"There has been a great deal of pressure on lately," she admitted, using the sa technique she had used many others. She had never been bold enough to do sothing like this with Ragnar but in that mont, she felt impulsive.
Her actions were driven by an unshakable urge to prove Circe wrong.
Avarine never doubted her abilities, she knew she could make Ragnar hers if she wanted to. And gods, she so badly wanted to.
"Everyone expected to be married or betrothed by now." She gave a small laugh that lacked mirth. "Soone like should have a mile long line of suitors eager for my hand in marriage.
"You are from a well-respected noble family," he replied. "I doubt you will struggle to find a husband."
Avarine smiled faintly before lowering her gaze demurely.
"That is the problem. I do not lack attention." She hesitated before saying, "None of them hold my interest. The n my brother introduced to all begin sounding the sa eventually." Her fingers twisted lightly together. "And after a while I started wondering if perhaps sothing was wrong with ."
"There is nothing wrong with you." He said. "Though I fail to see why you are discussing this with ."
This was why she loved him. Even now, Ragnar remained patient with her. Gentle. Attentive. All qualities she found endearing.
"You are quite knowledgeable, and I believed you might be able to offer so insight into my situation. I do not struggle to attract n, Your Majesty. The problem is that none of them compare to you. All these years, I have watched you. Loved you in silence. I kept waiting for you to notice the way I noticed you."
"Avarine," Ragnar said sharply.
But she pressed forward anyway, emotion spilling out faster now that she had finally begun. "We were ant for each other. This kingdom needs a Lamorian queen, not so magic wielding foreigner surrounded by scandal only weeks after her coronation. I would never embarrass you the way she has," she continued. "I would never bring sha to your na. I would make you happy."
"Avarine." This ti it was a warning, one that Avarine ignored.
She barely seed to hear him anymore. Years of delusion and longing had consud every ounce of reason she possessed.
"I should have been the one standing beside you." In her mind, this was the mont everything finally changed. She stepped directly into his space before he could move away and rose onto her tiptoes to kiss him.
Ragnar reacted swiftly and shoved her away before she could make contact. One mont she stood pressed close to him.
The next she stumbled backward hard enough to nearly lose her footing entirely.
When she glanced back at him and saw the harsh look in his eyes, she understood she had made a terrible mistake.
Ragnar looked at her with an expression she had never seen directed at her before. Revulsion.
Cold fury had darkened his face so completely that fear flickered briefly through her.
But beneath the anger in his eyes was sothing worse. Sothing deeply unsettled.
For one horrifying second while Avarine was trying to kiss him, the image of Irah Alder flashed through his mind so vividly it made his stomach turn. It drudged up all the things he wanted to keep buried forever.
The unwanted touching. The manipulation disguised as affection. The sick feeling of being cornered.
Ragnar’s hands curled tightly into fists at his sides. "Enough."
Avarine opened her mouth, but Ragnar cut her off imdiately.
"I have tolerated your presence out of respect for your family," he said coldly, "but this is unforgivable."
"No," he said harshly when she stepped toward him again. "Do not co near ."
His jaw clenched tightly enough to hurt while disgust flickered across his face, it was in the way he curled his top lip like she was truly sothing vile. He knew he wasn’t acting like himself right now, but how could he behave normally when his mind was finding it difficult to differentiate between the woman standing in front of him and his childhood torntor.
Avarine stared at him wide-eyed as he took another step back from her, desperately needing to put more distance between them.
"I know you started those rumors about Circe," he said. It took him so ti to calm down enough to form that sentence. "And now you stand here insulting my wife while attempting to force yourself onto ? She is my wife and the mother of my child. You will never speak about her that way again."
"What does she have that I don’t? How can soone like her possibly love you the way you deserve to be loved?" she asked indignantly. "She is nothing more than a prisoner of war you happened to pity. If Nheera had not forced your hand and made you marry her, Circe would still be wasting away in a cell. So what changed? Why does she matter to you now? Why is it her you love instead of ?"
"Not another word." He warned coldly. "And for your sake, pray that I never hear another word spoken against my wife or child."
Then he turned and walked away.
Avarine remained frozen in the alcove long after he disappeared from sight.
The cold air suddenly felt unbearable against her skin as another wave of humiliation crashed into her. Not just from his rejection but also from the disgust on his face.
Tears blurred her vision almost instantly, though they ca from fury far more than heartbreak. A strangled sound escaped her throat as she clenched trembling fists at her sides.
Circe.
This was Circe’s fault. She had poisoned Ragnar against her sohow. Turned him cold. Turned him cruel.
Avarine pressed a shaking hand against her mouth as rage and sadness twisted violently together inside her chest and right then she knew that she would never be able to recover from today. From watching the love of her life turn his back on her.
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