Very Cruel Intentions, Part 2

Her thoughts raced.

"Fine," she said at last.

Ragnar smiled, but it was not a kind smile. She recoiled, her whole body shaking as he let go.

They placed the game board before them. The sound of wooden pieces clattering against the board pulled her back to the present.

Kristin grinned, indifferent to the tension that crackled in the air, as she arranged the pieces. Ragnar leaned back, relaxed, though his eyes gleamed.

A heavy weight settled in Sigrid's stomach as she took her place. To Ragnar, this was no mere game-it was a contest he relished, a chance to dominate and push the limits of control.

With a thoughtful sigh, she stretched out her hands, running her fingers over the smooth, stiff pieces. They appeared solid beneath her touch; however, they gave her a faint sense of control.

She raised her eyes, shielding her thoughts, and met Ragnar's gaze with a calm expression, though her insides quivered.

"Ready?" His grin was wide and brimming with confidence.

"Get on with it," she said, eager to see it through.

She heard Ivar, Erling, and Thora murmuring, but only one thing occupied her thoughts.

Sigrid raised her hand, white as it gripped the edge of the table. Every muscle, every nerve, was taut. She would read him like an open book.

Ragnar began moving his pieces with a calm precision.

It was almost as if she could feel the approving nods from the audience every time he made a move. He grinned in satisfaction.

Then Sigrid responded with a move no one had expected.

Ragnar's eyes bore into the board. His smile faded, piece by piece, as Sigrid took control. To everyone's astonishment, the tide of the game turned in her favor.

"Where did you learn this?" He asked while he looked uncomfortable where he sat.

"While studying, my elder brothers play." Her gaze was sharp enough to unsettle Ragnar.

As the game neared its end, the match was even. Ragnar's minor errors didn't escape the observers. They realized Sigrid was on the verge of victory.

Ragnar made a desperate move, and she saw her moment. With careful precision, she placed her pieces in a perfect trap.

But just as she prepared to deliver the final blow, Bjørn entered the room, throwing her off balance.

"What are you doing?" Bjørn's gaze was shifting between Sigrid and Ragnar, his eyebrows furrowing.

"They are playing," Kristin answered on Sigrid's behalf, without lifting her eyes from the board. She watched, eager to see what Sigrid would do next.

"I need to speak with you," Bjørn said, turning to Sigrid, his gaze unwavering.

Kristin shot a quick glance at her son. "Can it not wait?"

"No," Bjørn's tone was leaving no room for debate.

Kristin started, "Can't you see..." but his intense gaze silenced her.

Ragnar leaned back in his chair, a crooked smile playing on his lips as his eyes lingered on Sigrid. "The choice is yours, but if you leave now, you lose."

"Can't you just wait for her?" Ivar interjected, annoyed with Ragnar.

"No, either she concedes or we finish the game now."

Sigrid was conscious of every gaze on her.

Bjørn turned and strode toward the door. He said nothing, but his irritation lingered in the air. The door slammed behind him, and the silence that followed was as oppressive as his presence had been.

She swallowed hard. The decision was like a punishment, regardless of her choice. She knew the necessary action.

With one last, uncertain glance at the board, Sigrid rose to her feet. Then take the victory," she said, her voice steadier than her internal state.

She could hear the crowd behind her argue among themselves. But she ignored it and stood up, hurrying after Bjørn.

Ragnar leaned back with a mocking smile. "Thank you for the game, Sigrid," he said as he stood, extending his hand. The gesture was theatrical, almost taunting.

She hesitated but took his hand. His grip was firm. He held her gaze as he leaned in.

"By the way, Kristin gave me the room right next to yours." He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "You talk loudly in your sleep."

The words hit her like a freezing wave. Ragnar smiled, a satisfied, almost wicked smile. He'd heard everything; she was certain.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and her face burned as if someone had set it aflame.

Without a word, she turned and hurried after Bjørn. Her thoughts raced, anger and shame merging into an unbearable storm.

Halfway out, she had to stop and brace herself against a wall to catch her breath. Her hands trembled. She was furious-at Ragnar, at herself, and at the dreams that had betrayed her. Above all, his awareness.

At last, she found Bjørn. He sat on a large stone by the shoreline. He looked up as she approached, his eyes narrowing as they met hers.

"What are you doing? Playing games with Ragnar?"

"It wasn't like that. He gave me no choice."

Bjørn shook his head. "There is always a choice, Sigrid."

"Yes, but sometimes it doesn't feel that way. And now Ragnar will make sure I pay for it..."

She sank down beside him on the stone, her eyes fixed on the waves crashing against the shore.

"And you know what? I deserve it. But Bjørn... please. If you're going to end things with me, just say it now." Her voice cracked, and she bit her lip hard to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

Bjørn hesitated, a smile touching his lips as he faced her. "All I want is to go back to the moment before he walked in."

Her breath caught. That moment's memory entered her thoughts, causing a warm flush on her cheeks. But before she could reply, Bjørn's expression grew serious again.

He took a deep breath, letting the salty sea air fill his lungs as if steeling himself.

"I need to admit something. Yesterday... I was angry. But more than anything with myself."

Sigrid looked at him in surprise, her brows knitting in confusion. "With yourself?"

"Yes. Because Ragnar makes me act like a fool."

"He has a knack for that," she said with a faint smile.

Bjørn shook his head, but he smiled as well. "Sigrid, you're not the only one who makes mistakes. I'm not as perfect as you think."

"What do you mean?" Her voice was soft but curious.

He looked elsewhere, seeking the proper phrasing. "After the midsummer feast, I told Erik about you and Ragnar. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it was out of jealousy."

"So, it was you?" Sigrid stared at him, her eyes wide.

He nodded. "And not just that. I couldn't tell you the truth about the letters."

"The letters? You know what happened to them?"

"Yes." He looked down, unable to meet her eyes. "I never sent them."

"I don't understand," she said, her thoughts scattering like threads caught in the wind.

He took a deep breath before continuing. "I wanted to send them, but..." He paused, steadying himself. "To be honest. I had plans to marry Kari. Not because I loved her, but because I thought it was the right thing to do."

She stared at him in silence before whispering, "So you lied about the letters?"

"Yes, can you forgive me?"

She paused for a moment before answering. "Of course I forgive you, Bjørn."

As if seized by sudden urgency, he grasped her arms and looked into her eyes. "Sigrid, if you want to be with Ragnar... I will not blame you. I swear. But you must tell me now."

She held his gaze steady. "I have loved no one-not the way I love you."
She paused, her voice softening. "I realized that yesterday, when I thought I might lose you."

Bjørn exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath all this time and pulled her close.

"Please, don't leave me again, Bjørn."

"I promise, and now we will marry. Nothing shall stand in our way-not anymore. Certainly not Ragnar."

"But I feel guilty for accusing Ragnar of hiding the letters," she said, her voice low.

"I hadn't planned to say anything," he began, before taking a deep breath. Despite lacking evidence, I suspect his involvement in my attack."

Sigrid stared at him. "Why do you think that?"

"Because he knew I was coming."

"He didn't say a word about it to me," she said, as if trying to piece together a puzzle that didn't quite fit.

"Erik was certain that Ragnar had received my message."

Sigrid pulled away from him. "Bjørn, I know Ragnar is capable of many things, but of that...?"

He held her gaze, unwavering. "Regardless, only we matter now."

"That I agree with, Bjørn. But one thing is certain: Ragnar has no good intentions in being here."

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