The ride to the palace was long and brutal, hours of hard riding through snow-covered terrain, their horses pushed mercilessly to the brink as they raced against time. Icy winds lashed at their cloaks and stung exposed skin, and the ground beneath the hooves of their mounts was slick with frost.
By the time they finally reached their destination, darkness had already swallowed the sky whole, the last traces of daylight snuffed out by heavy clouds.
The palace grounds loomed ahead, vast and imposing, illuminated by rows of flickering lamps that cast wavering shadows across the stone path. One by one, they dismounted.
Ragnar had followed them without further protest, though that obedience seemed to count for nothing. The moment he stepped down from his massive warhorse, more royal guards surged forward, closing in around him with swift, practiced efficiency. Cold iron shackles were clamped around his wrists before he could so much as straighten, the metal biting into his skin.
