The carriage wheels rolled with a steady rhythm as they rode through a long stretch of road, the countryside unfurling around them. Wide fields stretched as far as the eye could see.
Circe sat on the cushioned seat, hands folded in her lap, her attention fixed on the passing view outside the window. Every so often, her reflection flickered faintly in the glass, but she hardly noticed when there was so much else to see.
Opposite her, Ragnar watched in quiet amusement.
She had been like this since they left the manor, barely able to sit still, her gaze darting from one side of the carriage to the other. The fact that he had refused to tell her where they were going seemed only to sharpen her excitement rather than dull it.
"You look like you're about to burst," Ragnar remarked at last, his tone light.
