Reinhardt’s POV:
Twenty years.
That’s how long it’s been since Ragnar returned, clutching the hand of a frail little girl with big eyes and trembling fingers.
Three years old, he said.
She’d caught his attention on his trip, though at the time, I didn't think much of it. She was just another stray, and another body to put to work.
I never kept her around me. Why would I? She was a slave, nothing more. My sons, on the other hand, had their fun with her.
Tormenting, teasing, and chasing her around the estate like she was nothing but a rabbit to a pack of wolves. I never cared. It was normal. That’s what slaves were for — amusement, labor, and punishment.
But the day she hid in my study… that was when everything changed.
I remember it vividly. I’d been working at my desk, quill sc
