Page 23 of Crowned In Venom

I let the silence stretch between us, heavy with something neither of us name.

Then, she does something I do not expect.

She leans in, just slightly, her lips a breath from my jaw.

"Then I suppose," she whispers, "you will just have to keep watching me, my lord."

And gods help me—I will.

When she leaves, I remain sitting, fingers curled around the stem of my goblet, still tasting the ghost of her breath on my skin.

I should not be drawn to her.

She is playing a game, weaving a trap with silk and soft words, with glances that linger just long enough to feel like an invitation.

And I am walking toward it. Willingly.

I exhale sharply, rolling my shoulders, forcing my body to release the tension coiling in my spine.

It is nothing.

A moment of interest, nothing more.

I have seen beautiful women before. I have owned them, ruined them, discarded them when their beauty lost its shine.

She is no different.

And yet—I know that is a lie.

I do not return to my bed.

Instead, I move to the balcony, letting the cold night air chase the last remnants of her scent from my mind.

Below, the city sprawls, a twisting labyrinth of pleasure and violence, of power and ruin.

My empire.

And yet, for the first time in years, I feel the presence of something I do not control.

Not her.

Something else.

Something that does not belong in my halls.

A shift in the air. A whisper of movement where there should be silence.

The same thing I sensed the night before.

I grip the railing, my knuckles whitening, my pulse slow and steady.

I know who sent them.

The Matriarch.

A spy, a shadow, something birthed from her endless paranoia.

She has been watching me my whole life. Testing me. Measuring me. Poisoning me with her presence.

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