Chapter 332: Mira’s Shame
The carriage ride from the palace to the Norse estate stretched on like a sentence passed in silence. Only the muffled rattle of wheels over uneven stone and the occasional hiss of wind through majestic trees lining the road disturbed the oppressive stillness.
Mira sat rigidly, her hands clenched in her lap, wrapped tightly in Peredur’s cloak. But no fabric could shield her from the shame that burned through her skin like acid—raw, consuming, inescapable.
Percival and Peredur sat beside her, their faces grave, their silence louder than any words. Gideon had taken the other carriage with Lara and Asael, and even that knowledge gnawed at Mira’s already fraying composure.
She didn’t cry. She couldn’t. Tears would only make her look weaker—and she knew better than to show weakness in front of her family.
By the time they arrived at the estate, night had swallowed the horizon. The grand doors loomed open, as though the manor itself had anticipated her disgrace. Waiting atop the steps stood General Odin, her father, flanked by her mother, Lady Freya. Neither wore sorrow on their faces. None of them wore expressions of concern.
Only disdain.
"Inside," General Odin barked. "Now."
Mira descended the carriage slowly, her limbs aching, her pride in tatters and dragging behind her like a torn train. Servants turned their eyes away as she passed, but whether out of obedience or disgust, she couldn’t tell.
She crossed the threshold into the main hall and barely had time to breathe before the door slammed behind her. The heavy sound echoed like a verdict.
Freya was the first to speak, her voice as brittle as frost.
"What did you do?"