Page 97 of Crowned In Venom

I step forward, slow, deliberate.

"You told me to be careful," I murmur. "But it seems you’re the one who’s unraveling."

His eyes snap to mine.

Sharp. Piercing.

A flicker of something I can’t quite name—doubt? A warning? Or something deeper?

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," he says flatly.

But I do.

I almost do.

I just need one more piece.

So I give him my best mocking smile, the one that always drives him mad.

I reach out—not for him.

For the goblet.

He reacts too fast.

Before I can touch it, his hand snaps around my wrist.

"Don’t."

The command is soft. Too soft.

A warning.

A threat.

And yet…

Why does he care if I touch his drink?

I tilt my head, my pulse hammering in my throat. "Poison?"

His grip tightens.

For a moment, I swear I see something like panic flash through his gaze—but Varkos does not panic.

Then it’s gone, replaced by something colder, more lethal.

"If you want to live," he murmurs, "you’ll stop asking questions."

He doesn’t deny it.

I should feel fear.

But all I feel is curiosity.

I let him hold my wrist a second longer than necessary, watching him, measuring the weight of his words.

Then, slowly, I pull free.

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