Page 93 of Crowned In Venom

I exhale slowly, then step closer, lowering my voice to something silkier.

“Then let him decide if he wants me gone.”

They hesitate, but then one knocks sharply against the door.

Moments pass.

The heavy wood groans open, and I step inside.

The room is dimly lit, the smell of ink, steel, and something darker filling the air.

Varkos stands by the hearth, a goblet in his hand, his tunic loose, half-unfastened, as if he had been in the process of stripping for sleep.

But he is not relaxed.

He is watching me.

I can feel his gaze like an axe at my throat, assessing, calculating.

And beneath that—something else.

Something dangerous.

“Little fox,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “You should be asleep.”

My body betrays me.

A shiver runs down my spine—not from fear, but from the way his voice wraps around my throat like a silk noose.

I lift my chin. “So should you.”

He exhales a quiet laugh, stepping closer. “Bold tonight, aren’t we?”

I don’t smile.

I don’t play.

Not tonight.

“I found Mira.”

His expression does not change.

But something in the air shifts.

He takes another slow step, setting his goblet down on the table beside him.

“And?”

I search his face, looking for something—guilt, knowledge, regret.

But there is nothing.

His mask is flawless.

“Someone slit her throat.” My voice does not shake. “A warning.”

He hums, watching me. “A warning for whom?”

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