The following morning, Ragnar departed at first light for the palace. The ride from his manor in Amris to the capital was a long journey that he was now used to, but the weight he carried within him—the scouts' reports, his mounting suspicions, and the possible consequences of both—made the journey feel far longer than it ought to be.
By the time he passed through the palace's outer gates the sun had begun its descent over the stone towers, casting a golden glow on the sprawling courtyard.
The guards at the main entrance saluted sharply as he dismounted. Their armor possessed a dull, regal sheen that frequently caught the light.
The queen must have been oblivious to his arrival because Ragnar could easily notice the differences in the palace's atmosphere when the queen's influence wasn't yet present.
The palace staff didn't seem to fear him as much and no longer watched him with that wary look he had grown used to under the queen's influence.
