Page 119 of Crowned In Venom

I see it—the way his body tenses, the flicker of confusion in his expression, the sheer, brutal moment of realization.

"What?" His voice is barely more than a whisper.

The Matriarch hums, stepping closer.

"You have been so patient," she croons, her fingers trailing along his jaw.

"So careful."

"So methodical."

She leans in.

"And yet, every time you made me weaker, you were weakening yourself."

The world shifts.

Varkos sways.

He blinks, his grip tightening on his sword, but I see it now.

The subtle tremors in his hands.

The nights he has spent too still, too silent.

The exhaustion.

The way his injuries never seem to heal fast enough.

She has been poisoning him, too.

My stomach plummets.

"No," Varkos breathes.

A broken whisper.

A denial he does not believe.

The Matriarch cups his face in her hands, pulling him closer, forcing him to look at her.

"Yes," she murmurs.

A mother’s tenderness.

A serpent’s whisper.

"You are mine."

"You have always been mine."

"And even death will not take you from me."

Varkos staggers back, his breath ragged, his sword dipping slightly.

The vial in his hand shakes.

And I see it.

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