Ragnar had been mostly silent since the physician left. The manor now felt unnaturally quiet after the morning's ordeal and for the first time since Casilo arrived back, a fraction of the tension they all carried seeped free.
They had come directly from Casilo's room, where the worst of the chaos had finally been subdued, his wounds carefully cleaned and wrapped beneath layers of fresh bandages. He still lay unconscious, pale and unmoving, but his breathing had evened out. Alive and stable. For the moment, at least.
Still, the full weight in Ragnar's chest had not lifted.
Circe could not help the sidelong glance she cast in his direction as they walked. His jaw was set, expression carved from stone, eyes fixed straight ahead as though he were afraid to look at anything too closely lest it fracture whatever fragile control he was holding onto.
