The morning after Circe's confession, Ragnar found himself alone in his private study. Reports, and sealed correspondence lay spread before him. Normally, such things would have held his complete attention.
Today they did not.
His eyes moved over the reports about the recent actions of Westerian loyalists, but his thoughts remained elsewhere.
He could still picture Circe standing on the balcony beneath the moonlight. He could still hear the strain in her voice as she spoke of her homeland. Most of all, he remembered the look in her eyes when she admitted how much she missed it.
Ragnar leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Enter," he called immediately, already knowing who stood on the other side of the door. After all, he was the one who had summoned him.
The door opened a second later.
One of his most trusted generals stepped inside and bowed.
"You sent for me, Your Majesty."
