Morana pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she walked the empty road leading to the other side of town where she currently resided. The night air carried a sharp chill, but it did little to quell the unease twisting inside her. The last conversation she had with Circe replayed in her mind on a continuous loop.
Circe had not needed to raise her voice but it still had the effect all the same, her words direct and final. She knew everything now—who Morana truly was to Ragnar.
"I will not help you hide this from him," Circe had said. "Secrets like this do not stay buried forever. When he finds out—and he will—it will cut deeper if he learns I knew and said nothing. You have two weeks, Morana. Tell him the truth or I will do it myself. I will not be your accomplice in this."
Two weeks. The deadline sat like a stone in Morana's chest. She had offered no further argument after that, even though the deadline hardly favoured her at all.
