The man bowed low before he spoke, his voice steady and respectful.

"How may I be of assistance, Your Highness?" he asked, careful not to let his gaze linger on Circe as she dismounted the horse. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on Ragnar, clearly knowing where his attention should be.

"I wish to speak to Lady Maelis Hawthorne," Ragnar said, taking a step closer. Circe suspected the man was the house steward, judging by his crisp attire and formal bearing.

The steward nodded eagerly. "Of course, Your Highness. Right this way. Lady Hawthorne will be thrilled to see you." He gestured toward the house and motioned for them to follow him. "I will have someone attend to your horses while we are inside."

Just then, Casilo reached up and hooked an arm around Nieah’s waist, pulling her straight out of the saddle before she could react. She let out a startled gasp, fully expecting to hit the ground hard but her feet landed gently instead. She placed a hand over her chest, attempting to steady her racing heart before whirling around to glare at him.

Casilo only shrugged, feigning innocence. "You were taking too long to get down," he said with a frown, as if he genuinely couldn’t understand why she was upset.

Still scowling, Nieah muttered something under her breath before trudging after the group as they followed the steward up the wide steps and through the grand front doors of the house.

The interior was just as lavish as its exterior, perhaps even more so. High arched ceilings were adorned with intricate plasterwork, tapestries of deep crimson and gold hanging along the walls, and the furniture were carved from dark polished wood.

A crackling fire burned in a large hearth, warming the cavernous drawing room as they entered.

The steward motioned for them to sit and then turned back to Ragnar.

"Lady Hawthorne will be with you shortly," he said with another respectful bow before exiting quietly through the same doors they had just come through.

Nieah, still visibly shaken from the ride, collapsed into one of the many empty cushioned chairs scattered around the room. She tilted her head back against the rest and let out a soft groan.

"Just say you want to kill me next time," she muttered, half to herself and half to Ragnar. "That would be preferable to whatever that was."

She was, of course, referring to the ride over. The horses in Lamora unsettled her more than she cared to admit, and she hadn’t yet overcome the icy fear that gripped her every time she was forced to ride one. She didn’t even want to think about the return trip they would have to make once their business here was done.

Before long, the doors reopened and a woman strode confidently into the room. Her presence was commanding, her every step purposeful. She came to a graceful stop a few paces in front of Ragnar and dipped into a low, elegant curtsy.

"Your Highness," she said, a warm smile spreading across her lips. Then her gaze swept over the rest of the room, taking in the unfamiliar faces. "And I see you’ve brought company. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

She was a tall, striking woman middle aged woman, her chestnut colored hair streaked with strands of grey. Fine lines framed her eyes and mouth, the kind that deepened each time smiled and every time she spoke.

Despite her age, she carried herself with effortless grace and a quiet kind of power. Her voice was steady, her tone polite but beneath it lay a subtle sharpness, the kind wielded by women used to handling difficult situations and navigating a court filled with vicious opportunists.

What stood out most to Circe, however, was not her elegance or her warmth.

It was the glaring absence of fangs when the woman spoke.

Circe stiffened, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Lady Maelis Hawthorne was human.

That revelation stunned her more than anything she’d encountered that day. A human noble in Lamora? How was that even possible?

Ragnar stepped forward with an easy charm and clasped the woman’s hands in his.

"It’s always a pleasure to see you, Lady Maelis," he said warmly.

"If that were true, you’d come to visit more often." Lady Maelis chastised playfully

Her eyes twinkled with fondness, and the warmth between them was genuine, like two people who had known each other far too long to maintain formal pretenses.

Ragnar offered a grin, his fangs glinting slightly as he spoke. "Believe me, I would if I could. But you know how demanding my schedule gets, balancing princely duties with the army is no easy feat."

Lady Maelis narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "And yet, you somehow found time to get married."

That made Ragnar chuckle. He turned slightly and gestured toward Circe, who had remained silent until now, quietly watching the exchange from across the room.

"Lady Maelis, allow me to introduce my wife, Princess Circe Valdris."

Circe gave Ragnar a flat look, the kind that said she wouldn’t hesitate to hurl something heavy at his head if he provoked her any further. But she masked it quickly as Lady Maelis approached.

Lady Maelis gave her a gracious curtsy. "My name is Lady Maelis Hawthorne. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you." she said with a respectful dip of her head when she reached her.

Circe’s eyes lingered on her, still wary and guarded. Trust didn’t come easily to her, especially not here, in a kingdom full of predators. But there was something undeniably disarming about Lady Maelis’s presence.

Circe returned the curtsy with one of her own, her tone poised yet cool. "Princess Circe Valdris and the pleasure is all mine."

Lady Maelis straightened, her smile softening. "I’ve heard much about you, Princess. Welcome to my home."

Circe nodded, still not quite sure what to make of the human noblewoman standing before her.

So far, Lamora has proven to be full of surprises.