Circe couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "Well, perhaps I exaggerated a little. You don't look destitute. Just mildly impoverished."
Ragnar arched a brow, the corner of his mouth curving.
"Mildly impoverished? That's generous of you. You do have a way with compliments, princess."
"It's a talent," she said lightly, leaning back against the headboard. She tried to make her voice sound indifferent, but the wild thrum of her pulse betrayed her. It stood in sharp contrast to the calm she was desperately trying to cling to in that moment.
He tilted his head. "Remind me never to rely on your generosity again. I might end up in rags before you offer a kind word."
"I would still offer a kind word. Who knows, rags might actually look fashionable on you." She scoffed.
Ragnar gave a low hum of amusement, the sound rumbling in his chest as he rose slowly from the armchair. "You're lucky I have thick skin, or I might have taken offense."
