Page 28 of A Kiss of Deception

Jarvil's eyes flutter open as I kneel beside him. There's a clarity in his gaze that I've never seen before, a stark contrast to the fog of violence and alcohol that usually clouds it. He knows he's at the end of his road, and for a moment, I see a flicker of the man he could have been.

My hand shakes as I reach for the ring on his finger, the band still warm from his fading heat. The Ring of the Deceiver is now mine to command. As I slide it off his finger, Jarvil's hand twitches, grasping weakly at the air before falling back to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, the words barely audible. "I was a bad person."

Anger flares within me, hot and fierce. "You should have thought about that before murdering your family," I hiss, my voice cold and unforgiving.

A ghost of a smile crosses Jarvil's lips, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in my words. "Maybe... in another life," he murmurs, his voice little more than a breath.

And then he's gone, his chest still, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. I sit back on my heels, the ring heavy in my hand. The man who had caused me so much pain, who had hurt my mother and resented me for nothing more than being born a girl, was now nothing more than a shell.

I rise to my feet, leaving Jarvil's body behind. The ring pulses with a strange energy, its power now mine to wield. I can feel its potential, a seductive whisper in the back of my mind promising strength, promising freedom.

I turn to face Milkor, the ring clutched tightly in my palm. Its power thrums through me. Milkor's eyes lock onto my closed fist, his gaze hungry and intense.

The ring continues to pulse against my skin, its rhythm matching my racing heart. Each beat seems to whisper promises of power, of a future where I'm no longer at the mercy of others. I can almost see it - a world where I'm strong, where I'm free.

But with that vision comes doubt. Can I trust this power? Can I trust myself with it? The weight of my recent actions presses down on me, the memory of violence still fresh in my mind.

"It's done," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Milkor nods, his silver eyes never leaving my hand. "You've taken your first step into a larger world, Meetha." His voice is low, almost reverent. "How does it feel?"

I pause, considering. "I... I don't know. Powerful. Terrified. Alive."

A smile plays at the corners of Milkor's mouth. "Good. Those feelings will serve you well." He takes a step closer, his hand outstretched. "Now, as we agreed..."

I look at Milkor, his outstretched hand a silent demand. In his eyes, I see a hunger that mirrors the one I feel growing inside me. It's a stark reminder that in this world, alliances are as fragile as trust.

The ring seems to grow warmer in my hand, as if sensing my indecision. Its power calls to me, a siren song of strength and independence. But is it truly mine to claim? Or am I just exchanging one form of control for another?

My fingers twitch, almost of their own accord. I could give it to him, fulfill our agreement. It would be… noble. But the thought of relinquishing this power, this chance at true freedom, makes something deep inside me rebel.

"Meetha," Milkor says, his tone a mixture of warning and encouragement. "After everything we've been through, everything I've done for you... You understand the importance of this, don't you?"

In this moment, standing amidst the aftermath of death and betrayal, I realize that I'm at a crossroads. The path I choose now will define not just my future, but who I am at my core. Am I still Meetha, the scared, powerless girl I've always been? Or am I ready to become something more, something stronger?

The seconds stretch like hours as I wrestle with my decision. Finally, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come.

"Give me the ring, Meetha," Milkor says, his voice low and commanding. He extends his hand, palm up, expectant.

My heart races. This is the moment of truth. We had an agreement, didn't we? But the weight of the ring in my hand, the pulse of its magic... it calls to me.

"No.”

15

MILKOR

“Hand it over." I extend my palm, expecting Meetha to place the ring in it without hesitation.

She clutches it to her chest, eyes narrowing. "Why should I?"

My jaw clenches. The audacity of this human girl. "We had a deal."

"Did we?" Meetha's lips curl into a smirk. "I recall agreeing to give you the ring if you helped me kill Jarvil."

"Which I did."

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