Ragnar didn't like the way Nieah was looking at him after Circe slammed his bedroom door hard enough to shake the wooden panes. Her gaze was sharp, too sharp and far too knowing for his comfort. It was the kind of look that made him feel as though she could see straight through him, down to the very rot at his core.
Nieah's eyes slowly swept over the room, taking in the aftermath of what could only be described as chaos. Shards of a broken glass vase glittered on the floor like splinters of ice. A candelabra lay toppled on its side, its wax still warm and beginning to pool. A journal had been flung across the room, now lying face-up with its pages splayed open and curling at the edges. It was a mess.
Ragnar didn't even have to tell her what happened or that a fight had taken place only a few minutes ago, the evidence of it was right there in front of her.
