Mated To The Barbarian King Who Is My Ex-husband's Father.

The fire hadn’t died out when she woke in Kane’s arms. Arianna felt much warmer, grounded after the peaceful night they had shared.

​Kane was still sound asleep. He hadn’t slept early like her; she had drifted off mid-conversation while he was softly telling her stories of his youth.

​Fearing she might disturb him, she carefully lifted his heavy arm from around her waist and slipped out from the blanket. But as she stood to leave, she realized the delicate hem of her dress was caught beneath his shoulder.

​Arianna turned back, reaching down to untangle the fabric, but in one swift motion, Kane hooked his hand around her wrist and pulled her right back down onto his chest.

​A gasp slipped from her lips, but fear quickly turned into lighthearted excitement as a soft laugh escaped her. She relaxed against him once more. "What are you doing?"

​"Making sure my wife doesn’t run away," he grumbled sleepily into her neck.

​"Is that so?" She sank into his warmth.

​"Yes, my love. Where are you sneaking off to so early? The sun hasn’t even broken over the mountains."

​"I have limited time, Kane," Arianna reminded him gently. A quiet thread of unease tightened in her chest—she still hadn’t heard back from Eira, which was deeply unusual. The girl would have reported back by now, even if the news was bad. "I’ve spent almost all my time wrapped up with you."

​"Forgive me, my love," he murmured, slowly releasing his hold on her. A bittersweet smile touched his lips. "I hope you find whatever it is you are searching for."

​"Thank you, Your Highness," she teased playfully, rising to her feet and offering a small bow with a warm smile.

​Arianna slipped out of the pavilion and walked briskly back to her personal tent. She quickly stripped out of her night garments and changed into a practical dress.

Her hair was a tangled mess from the long night, but she merely brushed through the loose waves, quickly gathering the golden strands up into a tight bun before stepping out into the brisk morning air.

​Her destination was the servants’ quarters—a bustling, hidden section of the camp she had never possessed the chance to visit.

She had originally intended to inspect the area days ago, but now, she felt a strange stroke of relief that her busy schedule had delayed it.

If she had been seen lurking near the servants’ tents earlier, they certainly would have accused her of smuggling the ring to Maria.

"Greetings, my lady," a familiar voice called out from behind her.

​Arianna spun around to find Eira standing just a few paces away. She let out a long, quiet breath of relief before crossing her arms. "I was just on my way to look for you. Where on earth were you all night?"

​"I was right in the servants’ quarters, Your Highness," Eira replied, offering a quick, respectful bow before raising her eyes.

​"Why didn’t you come report to me last night?"

​"You were with the King when I finally managed to track down one of the girls. Servants aren’t permitted anywhere near the pavilion...only the royal family," Eira explained, her tone apologetic. "However, I did take the clothes and food to Maria, exactly as you instructed."

​Arianna nodded slowly. At least that part of the plan had been executed without a hitch. Still, a faint knot of frustration tightened in her chest over her own oversight. "So we can’t get the maid to meet with us now, right?"

​"No, my lady. It’s far too risky with the guards posted."

​"I think there might be someone who can help us," Arianna murmured, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her elbow. "He should easily have the authority to pull it off."

​"Who?"

​"Ragnar," Arianna said plainly. "Come with me and show me where his tent is."

​"R-Ragnar?" Eira squeaked, freezing in her tracks. Her jaw dropped slightly, her entire body locking up as if the name itself carried a hex.

​Arianna glanced around the quiet thoroughfare to ensure no nearby guards or servants were taking notice of their sudden halt. She turned back to Eira, her brow furrowing at the girl’s extreme reaction.

​"Is there something you’re not telling me, Eira? You act completely unsettled every single time I so much as mention his name."

"N-no, my lady. I just thought it would be inappropriate to ask him, considering it involves his own mother’s missing items," Eira stammered, nervously twisting her fingers together.

​"I am not asking him to ignore his mother’s missing jewelry. I am simply going to ask for his help in catching the actual criminal," Arianna countered, her tone firm. "And since when do you question my instructions? Lead the way."

​"Forgive me, my lady," Eira squeaked, quickly turning on her heel to lead the way toward the royal quarters.

​Arianna followed behind, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. Could Eira have fallen for Ragnar? It was a sweet thought, but given the scorpion of a mother Ragnar possessed, he was a dangerous man for a maid to pine after.

​"You ought to be careful, Eira," Arianna advised quietly as they walked through the dimming shadows of the morning. "Aunt Freya personally put an end to the union between Cassius and Alara years ago. Her excuse was that Alara was merely a titleless omega."

​Eira swallowed hard, the heavy lump in her throat making her silence almost painful.

​"What they did shattered Alara," Arianna continued gently. "I wouldn’t wish that kind of heart-wrenching humiliation on you. Falling in love is a beautiful thing, Eira, but you must be certain the person loves you back and is willing to bleed and fight for you against their own blood."

​"I am not in love, my lady... I swear it," Eira insisted, though her burning cheeks betrayed her in the pale light.

​"If you say so, Eira," Arianna chuckled softly.

​She found Eira’s secret affection endearing, yet terrifyingly reckless. Ragnar might very well be a good man at heart, but he was surrounded by toxic, power-hungry vipers.

​After a few more minutes of quiet walking, Eira halted in front of a sprawling, heavily guarded tent. Arianna knew instantly it belonged to the young prince.

​The guards posted outside blinked in utter shock at the sight of their Queen standing before them.

The sun had not yet cleared the horizon, and the cool gray mist of dawn still shrouded the camp.

They exchanged bewildered glances, clearly wondering what urgent matter could have brought the Queen to the young Prince’s quarters at such an ungodly hour.

"Inform Ragnar that I am here to see him," Arianna instructed the guards softly. She knew the timing was terrible—he was almost certainly still asleep. "I just hope he isn’t resting too deeply."

​One of the guards bowed respectfully before slipping through the heavy tent flaps. But only a few seconds passed before he rushed back out, his face pale and contorted with alarm.

​"I tried to wake him, Your Highness... but he won’t wake," he stammered, his voice trembling.

​"Are you joking?" Arianna demanded, taking a step forward to search the guard’s face. Panic flared in her chest as she saw the genuine, raw terror in his eyes.

​"I am not, Your Highness," the guard choked out, tears brimming in his eyes. "I tapped him, I shook his shoulder, but he won’t open his eyes..."

​Without waiting another second, Arianna shoved past him and threw herself into the tent.

​Unlike the standard quarters scattered throughout the camp, Ragnar’s space was thoughtfully divided into distinct sections. The front area served as a modest study, devoid of a bed.

She hurried deeper, throwing back the heavy cloth partition in the center.

​There, lying motionless on a narrow cot, was Ragnar.

​He was flat on his back, his hands resting limply at his sides, his eyes closed as if in deep sleep. But his face was unnaturally pale, devoid of all warmth.

​Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. He looked completely lifeless.

​"Ragnar..." Arianna called out, her voice rising in urgency. "Ragnar!"

​She called his name half a dozen times, but not a single breath or muscle shifted in response. Cold, suffocating dread seized her mind, screaming at her to turn back and shout for the guards and medicine women—that he was already gone.

​Driven by desperation, Arianna took two quick steps forward and reached out, tapping his arm gently. Then shaking it harder.

​Nothing. His skin was unnaturally chill beneath her fingers.

​Terror took hold of her, and Arianna opened her mouth to scream for help.

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