The look he gave each of them was as frigid as the whipping winter winds, his face a mask fashioned from granite. They had barged their way onto his property, riding straight through his gates and issuing thinly veiled threats on the very doorstep of his home. Anyone else would already have been dead, and they all knew it.
The king's coat of arms emblazoned on their cloaks was the only thing shielding them from Ragnar's wrath. Attacking a royal guard while they carried out the king's orders was a punishable offense, one he was keenly aware of, no matter how tightly his hands curled at his sides.
"What is this?" Ragnar demanded, his voice losing a fraction of its earlier calm. "Am I being arrested?"
Seconds stretched painfully long as the men remained silent, likely assessing the situation and calculating their next move in the event Ragnar turned violent. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, hanging in the air like frost.
