"But it does," Jayran replied, his eyes gleaming. "It concerns everyone in Lamora."
Ragnar looked at Jayran the way one would regard a coiled snake poised to strike at the slightest provocation. He didn’t even need to ask who the other party in the wager was. There was only one possible answer.
Azul. It had to be him
Jayran and Azul had souls as black as pitch, and both of them would gamble theirs in a heartbeat if it ant besting the other. It was a twisted ga between two equally dangerous n, and now, sohow, Ragnar had beco the pawn.
"Don’t look so shocked," Jayran said smoothly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I can’t be the only one who knows about your plan to take the throne. Casilo over there knows." He gestured lazily in Casilo’s direction. "What about your allies in the court? Lord Tomar? Lady Taryn? Surely, they’re all aware. I wouldn’t be surprised if even the queen suspects sothing."
And that was the problem.
If Queen Nheera ever realized the full extent of the threat Ragnar posed to Hairan’s claim to the throne, she would waste no ti unleashing everything at her disposal to eliminate him. She wouldn’t hesitate, not even for a second.
Ragnar’s voice was asured when he spoke. "And if you’re correct? What then?"
A slow, confident smile stretched across Jayran’s face. "Then it ans you have my full support. I’m on your side, brother. I’m your ally, not an enemy."
But Ragnar couldn’t bring himself to believe a single word that ca out of Jayran’s mouth. Not just because he was Queen Nheera’s son, but because in all the years they had known each other, Jayran had never done anything that didn’t ultimately serve his own interests.
Jayran Acheron had never pledged loyalty to anyone but himself. Trusting him was the most foolish thing anyone could ever do and Ragnar was no fool.
He didn’t bother hiding his skepticism. His gaze sharpened. "Why should I trust you?"
Jayran looked almost offended by the question. "Because unlike Azul, I actually care what happens to this kingdom."
And just like that, everything clicked into place. The entire scene unraveled in Ragnar’s mind with brutal clarity. His two brothers had placed a wager on who would beco their father’s successor and Jayran had bet on him.
Ragnar might have laughed if he weren’t so deeply irritated by the entire thing. That family never ceased to drag him into their treacherous gas, whether he liked it or not.
"This wager..." Ragnar began slowly, narrowing his eyes. "What do you stand to gain if you win?"
Jayran’s grin widened. "Half of everything Azul owns."
Of course. That sounded about right. Jayran’s loyalty ca with a price tag, and in this case, that price was wealth, power, and leverage over Azul.
Ragnar turned to leave, shaking his head in disbelief. As he moved past Casilo, their eyes t briefly. Then Ragnar spoke, his words ant solely for his brother.
"You know where the exit is and while you’re at it, find soone else to bet on."
But Jayran wasn’t done.
"Oh, did I ntion that Azul has chosen to back Hairan’s claim to the throne?" he said casually, and just like that, Ragnar’s footsteps ca to a halt.
No, he definitely hadn’t ntioned that. Ragnar would’ve rembered.
Jayran’s tone turned grave, his voice dropping lower, as if he wanted to make sure Ragnar absorbed every syllable. "Toss your pride out the window and listen to , brother. If you don’t want to see Hairan ascend Marzen’s throne, you need to work with ."
Ragnar didn’t respond, but Jayran pressed on.
"Hairan was the first person to place a bet on your wife’s life. What do you think he’ll do when he has the crown and the power to act without restraint?"
Ragnar’s fists clenched at his sides.
There were scores that Hairan still sought to settle.
A wife for a wife.
Those were Hairan’s exact words the night Ragnar had brought Circe before the king and queen. The mory struck him like a blow to the chest.
Ragnar had tried not to dwell on it since the conversation he had with Lord Tomar in the palace. But the ti was coming when he could no longer afford to avoid it and that ti was closer than he wanted to admit.
He knew Hairan. He knew the depths of the man’s cruelty and the long-standing vendetta he nursed. Their rivalry started since childhood, born of envy and fueled by resentnt.
Hairan had tried to harm Ragnar countless tis in the past and none of his attempts had ever succeeded enough to leave permanent damage. But now, Hairan had a new target for his hatred. Circe.
And unlike the other nobles who were betting against her survival for their own amusent, Hairan’s hatred was personal. It was deep and consuming.
A wife for a wife.
The words echoed in Ragnar’s mind, reverberating through his skull like a deafening noise.
Surely Queen Nheera had known this would happen when she forced Ragnar to marry Circe. She must have known it would only fuel the fire of Hairan’s contempt.
A wife for a wife.
If Hairan beca king, Ragnar would be forced to watch another one of his wife be killed. Just like before.
The silence in the study grew taut, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears.
At last, Ragnar broke it.
" I don’t trust you," he said coldly. He didn’t turn around to look at his brother.
Jayran’s voice was calm, but resolute. "I wouldn’t expect you to. Not yet at least. Not until I prove myself. And I will, Ragnar. By the end of all this, you will know where I stand."
Ragnar scoffed, the sound hollow. Still, he didn’t move and didn’t say a word. Ragnar remained silent for a long mont before finally muttering under his breath. " We’ll see."
And with that, he walked away.
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