Evil Begets Evil

Mira wasn't given time to recover.

By the next morning, a royal escort arrived—led by palace guards clad in gold and crimson, their faces expressionless, their orders absolute.

The Norse family did not protest. Not General Odin, nor Freya, who barely looked at Mira as she was handed over like a parcel.

Gideon, Peredur, and Percival kept on sighing. If only Mira's heart were not evil, this would not have happened.

"A royal summons," Odin had said simply, eyes averted.

They dressed her in silks far too fine for someone so disgraced. The gold embroidery felt like chains. Her bruises had barely begun to fade when she was brought before the royal court—not to plead her case, but to be claimed.

The King did not attend. Only a bored steward read the royal decree aloud in a gilded hall, his voice echoing: