Circe woke to the sound of soft shuffling somewhere within the room. Her eyes were dry and scratchy as she slowly pried them open, squinting against the light streaming through the partially drawn curtains. She blinked a few times, her surroundings gradually coming into focus.
She was in Ragnar's room, on his bed, no less, just as she had been every morning for the past three weeks, despite her countless attempts to evade him. No matter where or how she drifted off to sleep, she always seemed to wake up here, in this same space that smelled faintly of cedarwood and him.
Three maids moved quietly about the room, but their presence didn't alarm her. It was the usual hour they came in to prepare her bath. However, instead of buckets of water or fresh linens, they held trays and platters, each one laden with food. Glazed pastries, fruits, cream custards and fresh bread filled the room with a warm, inviting aroma that made her stomach twist in confusion more than hunger.
