CHAPTER THERE

Ragnar watched as Lilith gracefully approached him, her hips swaying with every movement. She had nice child–bearing hips and his heir would have the best maternal genes, that's for sure. It pleased him, and a slow, pleased smile spread across his face.

"Lilith," he rumbled, a hint of satisfaction in his voice, "come closer."

Lilith obeyed, nodding, moving with a sensual grace until she stood before Ragnar.

"My Lord," the doctor began, bowing slightly. He had not even noticed that a doctor had escorted Lilith in. "I've conducted a thorough examination, and Lilith is in her prime childbearing years, twenty-one years old. She has successfully passed all the fertility tests and is deemed fit for the task."

"Very well," he declared, his voice resonating through the throne room. 

Ragnar turned to a guard stationed at his side and gestured for him to approach. He stepped closer and bowed.

"Take Lady Lilith to her quarters. Ensure she is provided with a suite befitting her stature in the mansion," Ragnar commanded and the guard nodded. 

Ragnar's gaze then shifted back to Lilith. "The maids will be sent to assist you with a refreshing shower and to bring you some nourishment. Afterward, take some rest. Later tonight, a suitable dress will be provided for your visit to my chambers."

A subtle smile played on Lilith's lips as she gracefully bowed. "I have heard and understand, my Lord. I am honored to be of service to you and our kingdom."

"All of you, leave us," Ragnar instructed and she bowed, turning around and making her exit from the throne room. The guard and doctor followed as well and the heavy door closed behind them.

-:-

Astrid's eyes opened, the clatter of clothes dropping on the floor jolted her into full consciousness. 

As awareness slowly returned, her gaze darted around the room. She noticed that she was in a strange, substandandard room that only had a bed as furnishing. However, she was not laid on the bed and was on the ground.

She sat up abruptly, her eyes locking onto a woman standing nearby, glaring at her with an anger that sent shivers down Astrid's spine. The unexpectedness of the woman’s presence made Astrid flinch; she seemed about Astrid's age, but her expression was stern, and her hands were tightly clasped at her sides.

"Where am I?" Astrid's voice was hoarse as she spoke—she was parched, and her stomach rumbled in hunger. 

"Lord Ragnar's palace," The woman's response sliced through Astrid's momentary confusion, snapping her back to the grim reality of her situation.

Ragnar? Hell no.

She had to find a way to escape, now. 

Astrid's instincts kicked in. With a swift movement, she attempted to change into her wolf form and launch herself at the woman—she would defeat the woman and then find her way out of wherever this palace was.

However, her efforts were met with an unexpected resistance that sent a jolt of energy coursing through her body, forcing Astrid to collapse back onto the floor.

Astrid winced, her eyes narrowing at the sensation. She felt a weight around her ankles and, upon closer inspection, noticed the glint of a metallic anklet. 

It dawned on her—the device was a power-restricting anklet, designed to prevent her from shifting into her wolf form.

The woman standing over her chuckled, a cold and mocking sound that reverberated in the room. "There's no need for futile attempts, Astrid. Your little escapades won't work here. Lord Ragnar has taken measures to ensure you remain exactly where he wants you." 

The woman pointed to the clothes on the floor and Astrid’s voice followed her. "That is your slave uniform. Lord Ragnar has deemed it fit that you serve him in this palace, and I suggest you get used to the idea quickly." she said, “Lord Ragnarwillbrief you on the rest of the details but for now, all you need to know is that you are responsible for taking Lord Ragnar his meals, you'll also be tasked with preparing his bath and maintaining the cleanliness of his quarters. Any negligence will be met with consequences, and I assure you, they won't be pleasant."

Astrid's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles turning white as anger bubbled within her like a cauldron, threatening to boil over. But of course, she had to control herself. 

"I am Garselle, and as of this moment, you will answer to me. I am your superior." she declared. Astrid eyed her from top to bottom; she was not dressed in shabby clothes and had on blue dress with flayed hands and jewelry to adorn herself. She had brown, long and curly hair and black-lipstick doused lips that had been scrunched in a scowl since she came in

Garselle continued, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. "Your duty begins now. Your first task is to attend to Lord Ragnar's evening bath. Be quick.” 

Astrid's nostrils flared with suppressed rage. The words stung, not just because of the servitude forced upon her but the reminder of the power Ragnar held over her. Yet, she held her tongue. 

Garselle, seemingly satisfied with the effect of her words, turned and left the room, leaving Astrid alone to grapple with the reality of her new existence as a slave in Ragnar's palace.

Preparing his bath? Disgusting. 

The mere mention of serving Ragnar in such an intimate manner intensified Astrid's anger. The room echoed with her suppressed growl as Garselle walked away.

-:-

The narrow hallway stretched before Astrid as she moved with measured steps, the fabric of her slave uniform clinging uncomfortably to her skin. 

She hated it.

The muted murmurs of the workers and maids echoed through the corridor as she walked. She felt their eyes on her, burning with hatred and hostility. 

She knew why though—she was the leader of the rogues that plagued their kingdom for way too long. Although, it was all their fault in the first place.

Astrid held her head high nevertheless, refusing to let their judgment deter her.

Eventually, she was at Lord Ragnar’s door. She took in a deep breath, shutting her eyes and then she opened them and exhaled. She shook her head at what she had become, at what she had been reduced to and she sighed again.

Without bothering to knock, she turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. There was no need for her to knock, he wasn't around. That's why she washere, so she would prepare the bath for him before he arrived from wherever the hell he went to. 

However, the scene that greeted her was unexpected, to say the least.

Her eyes widened in horror, the cleaning equipment dropping from her hand and clattering on the ground as her mouth fell wide open.

He—he..was …he was stark naked!

There stood Lord Ragnar, bare–but naked; his tall, muscular form revealed in all its glory, droplets of water tracing paths down his sculpted physique. The steam from the shower curled around him.

Ragnar turned, water droplets glistening on his skin, and his gaze met hers. His brows furrowed in displeasure and a scowl took over his features—however, he made no move to cover himself.

And as much she hated to admit it, It was a breathtaking image, one that stirred an unwelcome heat within her, and she quickly averted her gaze, her face burning.

Of course she would feel this way from looking at him, after all…he was her mate.