Chapter 10

Ragnar

  There was a particular kind of exhaustion that did not show on the face. I wasn't a fan of it, but somehow, I had mastered it.

By morning I was already seated at the head of the council table, the crest carved into the wood beneath my hands. Everything was going well, as well as things needed to go in the pack. Reports were delivered, borders discussed and even disputes that had stayed too long were finally settled.

I knew I should be relieved, but I wasn't. Instead, I nodded when nodding was required, spoke when silence would have been misread, and signed my name where it was expected.

From a distance, I looked unshakable, but up close, Davan knew better. He stood at my right as he had for twelve years. He did not interrupt, he did not question, but I felt his attention the way one feels a blade resting lightly against the skin.

He knew the difference between composure and effort.

When the last council member bowed and left, he remained.

“You should eat,” he said quietly.

“I will.” I muttered. “I'm not hungry.”

“You did not yesterday.” Davan let out again, his tone more firm this time. 

“Really?” I stacked the documents in front of me with precise alignment. “Is that a report or a reprimand?”

“An observation.”

I met his eyes then, and as usual they were steady and loyal. Davan wasn't one to back down or easily intimidated, and while that was one of the many things I liked about him, the fact that he was too perceptive was actually annoying right now. 

“I am fine,” I said after what seemed like forever. “There's nothing to worry about.” 

“Yes,” he replied evenly. “You are.”

Even a blind man could see that he didn't believe me, but at the same time, he didn't press me any further, and that was why he was still alive.

I had no idea what time was after Davan’s little observation, but eventually he disappeared. 

Sera did not knock as the door to my study opened without ceremony and shut with deliberate calm behind her. I looked up from the parchment I had been reading without seeing.

She stood in front of my desk, hands clasped loosely in front of her. Her face was not flushed with anger.

It was composed, and that was worse.

“Do you intend to greet me,” she asked, “or shall I begin?”

I leaned back slightly in my chair. “You may begin.”

She studied me for a moment, as if confirming something to herself.

“What you did,” she said, her voice level and unhurried, “was cruel.”

There it was. The truth wrapped in nothing. Sera had always been known for saying the truth everytime, but this time, I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it 

“You took a woman,” she continued, “who had already been failed by every man who was meant to protect her. You stood her in front of the entire court in a gown I spent forty minutes placing flowers into…”

She didn't raise her voice as she spoke, not once, and that filled me with dread.

“...and you rejected her publicly.”

Each word landed with surgical precision, but I kept my expression neutral.

“You watched her fall unconscious,” she went on, “and you did nothing.”

There was no tremor in her tone, no accusation sharpened by emotion. Only fact.

“I know why you did it,” she said.

My fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the desk, but h didn't interrupt. I couldn't. 

“I know the politics involved. I know the alliances you were attempting to protect. I know the calculations.” Her gaze did not waver. “The why does not make it acceptable.”

There was nothing to argue with.

I could have listed the risks, explained the council pressures, even outlined the fractures that would have followed had I chosen differently, but it didn't matter, because none of it would survive her.

So I did not defend myself. I sat there and absorbed it, her silence stretching between us. I had no idea what else she had up he sleeve, but just when I thought the worst has passed, she delivered the final cut.

“She left.” Something in my chest tightened before I could stop it.

“What?” I couldn't believe my ears. 

“She left the infirmary,” Sera said. “Our sources say she traded her earrings to a caravan driver and disappeared. No one has seen her ever since.” 

For a fraction of a second, or less than that, Sera's words echoed in my head. 

She was gone. Gone.

“Does anyone know where?” I asked.

“No.”

I nodded once and looked back down at the parchment in front of me.

The ink blurred briefly before sharpening again.

“I see,” I said and that was it. As I pretended to read, I didn't miss her watching me. She was also waiting too. For what, I wasn’t sure. Regret? Anger? A crack?

I didn't give her any reaction, and after a long moment, she exhaled softly.

There was something like sorrow in it, like she expected more from me and I'd just disappointed her in the worst way possible. 

“Very well,” she said. “Suit yourself.” 

She turned and left without another word.

The door closed, and even though the room felt larger after she was gone, I couldn't help it. 

The ache returned that night. It had been intermittent since the ceremony. A dull, persistent pull in the center of my chest. I'd had it checked out, but every healer had given me the same answer.

There was nothing physically wrong.

I sat alone in the dark, the fire burned down to embers. The documents remained untouched on my desk.

The bond had snapped in front of the court, I had felt it tear, but I had also felt something linger.

I pressed my palm flat against my chest and the ache responded. I felt a slow, steady pull, as if something were tethered there, stretching farther than it should.

I closed my eyes.

“This was necessary.” I had told myself that repeatedly.

It was necessary for stability, for the crown and for the future. The kingdom could not afford uncertainty. It could not afford a queen whose lineage invited scrutiny, it could not afford unrest, so I had made the decision a king makes.

My hand tightened against my chest, but the pull did not ease. Somewhere beyond the walls of the capital, she was walking under a different sky

A flicker of memory surfaced unbidden. I saw her white dress, flowers woven carefully into her hair, and the look in her eyes when the bond reached for mine.

I opened my eyes immediately.

No.

The mask settled back into place, even in the dark where no one could see it.

I was king, and the weight of my name did not allow indulgence. I sat with it long after the fire died completely, my palm pressed flat against my chest as if I could hold something in place by force alone.