Ragnar fell silent, his fingers tracing a slow, absent line along the seam of her coat.
"If you could choose," he asked finally, his tone measured but intent, "where would you want to go first?"
She considered that carefully. "There are too many choices," she said. "But maybe somewhere warm. Somewhere near the sea. A place with warm weather all year round."
"I hope to take you there one day," Ragnar said earnestly. "We could bring Rowen, if you wish. But most of the time, it would just be us."
Circe turned her head then, surprise flickering across her face before softening into something else entirely. He could see the thought taking root, the possibility unfolding in her mind.
He already saw it clearly himself, the long roads stretching ahead, distant shores, unfamiliar skies. He imagined her laughter carried by sea wind, her wonder renewed in places far beyond Lamora's borders. The desire for it settled deep in his chest, steady and resolute.
