When the magic that had held her frozen finally snapped loose, Circe nearly stumbled forward from the sudden freedom. She did not look back at the tainted carcass. Whatever invisible force had rooted her in place moments before still lingered faintly like a phantom pressure against her spine.
She all but sprinted across the grounds toward the manor, skirts gathered in trembling hands. She nearly collided with a maid rounding a corner, earning a startled gasp and hurried apology she barely registered. The corridors blurred as she moved through them, winding halls stretching endlessly ahead of her, her heartbeat pounding so loudly she was certain it echoed off the stone walls.
There was only one thought in her mind. Find Ragnar.
She knew he would likely be with Lady Taryn. But when she passed both Taryn and Avarine without spotting him with them, she realized that Ragnar might still be in the parlour.
That was how she found herself standing motionless at the threshold.
