Circe had never had any pleasant encounters with Irah Alder. In the short time she had stayed at the palace, the woman had made it her personal mission to inconvenience Circe's life in every way she could manage. It had not been difficult for Irah to do—Circe had been trapped in a strange land, surrounded by customs she did not yet understand, and still reeling from the violent loss of her kingdom.
"This isn't just about me not staying in the carriage, and don't even try to deny it," Circe said now, her voice steady despite the tight knot in her chest.
She watched Ragnar's body grow even more rigid at her words. The air around him felt sharp, and she could almost see his hackles rise.
"What were the two of you discussing back there?" she pressed on. "It's clear she did something. You even said that you trusted her once, and that she took advantage of—"
"That has nothing to do with the conversation you and I are having," he snapped, cutting her off once more.
