Page 109 of Crowned In Venom

My fingers flex at my sides before I follow.

The walk to her chambers is silent. The halls stretch long and too empty, the night pressing in around us like a shackle.

She is leading me deeper into her wing.

It feels like a trap.

And yet I walk into it.

Inside, the air is warm, scented with incense. A contrast to the blood drying on my skin, to the scent of steel and sweat that clings to me.

She stands before a long table draped in black cloth. Dinner is already waiting.

"Sit."

I do.

The chair is cushioned, too soft. My body aches from battle, and I sink into it unwillingly.

The Matriarch moves with practiced grace, pouring dark wine into a silver goblet.

She watches me over the rim of her own glass as she sips.

"Tell me again, my son," she murmurs. "What happened tonight?"

My pulse thuds once, hard.

She is testing me.

My fingers tighten around the goblet, though I do not drink.

"The prisoners revolted," I say evenly. "A well-planned attack. It suggests they had help from the inside."

Her expression does not change.

"And yet, you found no one?"

I shake my head. "Not yet."

Her nails tap lightly against the goblet, the faintest whisper of sound against metal.

"I see."

She does not believe me.

Or does she?

I cannot tell.

And that is what unsettles me most.

She is quiet for a long moment, letting the silence stretch like a noose between us.

Then—she smiles.

"Then we must be more careful, mustn’t we?" she says lightly, lifting a small silver fork and spearing a piece of meat.

She takes a delicate bite, as if we are not sitting in the aftermath of a massacre.

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