The next morning a serving girl came to their room, and in her hands was a neatly folded stack of clothes.
" Who sent you with these?" Circe asked, eying the girl suspiciously.
" Lady Irah sent me." The girl refused to look at Circe directly as she went ahead and plopped the clothes down on the mattress Circe and Rowen shared.
Circe bristled. She didn't know much about Lamorian customs but where she was from, speaking to someone without looking at their face was considered disrespectful.
After the time she spent with Irah the day before, Circe was fully convinced the woman hated her and would sooner like to see hounds tear up her flesh than watch Circe marry Prince Ragnar. Why then was Irah choosing to send her clothes? Was it out of pity? Circe wasn't even sure the woman was capable of such emotions.
There had to be some ulterior motives attached. Words rushed to the tip of Circe's tongue. Her pride urged her to refuse the gift and send the girl away. She feared her bruised ego wouldn't be able to take another hit. But her brother was already eagerly digging into the pile of clothes before she could even utter a single word. Just like her, Rowen also had to wear the same clothes for days now, something he wasn't used to as a young prince.
Whatever protest she had died on her tongue as she stared at Rowen. Need quickly won over distrust.
" Give lady Irah my thanks."
The girl nodded before exiting the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, Circe dropped down on the bed next to Rowen.
" Let's see what we have here." She said as they both examined the pile. It consisted of multiple dresses, along with plain tunics and trousers in Rowen's size. The dresses Circe was given were simple but practical. They were clothes fit for servants. The fabric was made of plain cotton, the complete opposite of the high quality silks they were used to back home.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw Rowen staring off into the distance.
" Penny for your thoughts." She nudged his arm playfully, hoping to make him crack a smile but her efforts were futile.
" Are they really going to make you marry Prince Ragnar?" Rowen asked.
Circe's smile withered immediately.
" Most likely. You heard what was said in that throne room." She responded somberly.
When he spoke next, his voice was no more than a whisper. " You shouldn't have said yes to the queen's bargain."
She frowned at him. " They were going to kill us. Right there, in front of all the lords and ladies of the court. They were going to kill you and have me watch."
" But this situation isn't any better, is it? Always worrying about our safety in a palace full of leeches. I see how you guard the door at night, Circe. When was the last time you slept? How long would it take for them to realize that we aren't worth the trouble and kill us anyway?" Rowen's gaze bored into her. He had their father's eyes, it was a vibrant hazel color that perfectly complimented his light brown hair.
" Rowen…" Words eluded her. She could only stare.
" It's because of me, isn't it? That's the reason you're going along with their stupid demands. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have allowed yourself to become a prisoner. I know what you are capable of, Circe. Pride is what you and father had in common. You would have preferred to die surrounded by your fallen country men then allow yourself to be taken."
Circe didn't bother denying it. Doing so would be lying and she didn't want to insult him by lying to him.
Growing up, their father's teachings were her constant companions. He always said that if she ever found herself in a situation where all hope was lost, it was better to end it all right there while she still had the power rather than anything else. Especially as a woman, because there were fates worse than death.
In a situation like that, death is always the better option. As someone who grew up the way she did, Circe always knew a time would come when she would have to make a similar decision. But when push came to shove, she chose life. She chose her brother's life.
***
" Five people were reported missing in villages from the south in the last two days. Two men from Kemia, a man and a woman from Jireh and a man from Kezar. All of them, gone without a trace." Ragnar recounted. He sat before his father in a lavishly decorated study. It was a space befitting a king in terms of opulence.
King Zeriel stared back at his oldest son with a pensive expression. He rested his clasped hands on the polished wooden desk in front of him.
" Perhaps they were simply village drunks who made a wrong turn and lost their way home." The king suggested.
" Doubtful. Someone would have seen them by now if that was the case." Ragnar said.
The more the king studied him, the harder Ragnar fought to mask his expressions. His father's gaze on him was similar to that of the queen's, in the way it felt like claws scratching against his flesh.
" What do you suspect?" The king asked.
" I don't have enough information about the incidents to truly suspect anything."
" I see," King Zeriel leaned back on his chair. " I will have someone look deeper into the disappearances. In the meantime, I want to know your thoughts on the issue with the westerian girl. Arrangements are already being made."
" Am I permitted to speak plainly?"
The king scoffed. " I don't see any reason why you can't."
Ragnar's eyes hardened. " This engagement is the stupidest idea I have ever heard and her majesty was ludicrous for even suggesting it to begin with. If there is any unrest in the far east, my troops and I will handle it just like we handled Westeria. We don't need the efforts of a human princess."
Ragnar suspected the queen of having other ulterior motives behind her decision but he refused to voice out the thought. Not in front of the king. The matter was between Ragnar and the queen herself. If his father got involved, he would have to pick sides and he wasn't going to pick Ragnar. King Zeriel had never chosen Ragnar and he wasn't going to start doing so now.
That was the life of a bastard prince in Lamora. Legitimacy made one important and valued In their culture. It was also the very thing Ragnar lacked.
" And yet you choose to keep her and her brother alive." The king countered.
Ragnar's lips thinned.
" Some days, you're an open book. Easy to understand. Other days you're impossible to read. It's hard to tell which side of you I will be getting each time we meet." The king mused.
" I'm a product of my circumstances. As we all are."
The king nodded. " You're absolutely right."
Ragnar rose to his feet and bowed low. " May I take my leave now, your majesty? There are other matters that demand my immediate attention."
" Very well." His father waved him off.
Ragnar exited immediately. He walked through the courtyard with purposeful strides. But his gait slowed when something caught his attention. Not something but someone.
Circe stood in front of one of the library's floor to ceiling windows. She didn't notice him at first as she stared at the patch of wildflowers next to the fountain.
He had been avoiding her since the night he presented her to his father and the queen. He had hoped to keep his distance until he was able to convince the queen to dissolve the engagement. Now there she stood, one of his most challenging obstacles made flesh.
Her expression was the most relaxed he had ever seen. It was strange. She didn't look like someone who recently lost everything. Either she was quick at adapting or she was skilled at hiding her true feelings just like him.
She glanced down and their gazes met. He didn't speak as he watched Circe curl her lips into a hateful sneer at the sight of him. She had never looked more like a haughty royal than she did at that moment, despite the plain clothing she wore.
It was then he realized something; Circe Valdris was going to be a bigger problem than he initially anticipated.