Page 5 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

Good. Let her look. Let her understand what she has walked into.

Kario’s gates yawn open without command, guards stationed like statues, their fangs glinting beneath polished helms. They don't acknowledge Seren, but their gazes flicker over her briefly, assessing. Calculating.

Humans are rare here. Humans with teeth rarer still.

The city is alive, the streets carved into the cliffs themselves, winding paths that spiral downward into the jungle below. Market stalls offer raw meat wrapped in salt moss, fresh carcasses strung between posts. The vendors call out to passing nobility, boasting of beasts felled in the deep wood, of warriors’ kills yet to be touched by fire.

Seren doesn't recoil, but her fingers tighten around the chain in my grasp, as if testing its weight.

A waste of effort. If she runs, I will not need to chase her.

She will not make it past the gates.

We pass the first of the arenas, its towering archways bathed in gold from the setting sun. The walls writhe with depictions of battles etched so deep, the blood of past champions still clings to the stone. Banners of the royal house, the crest of the twin serpent, flutter in the humid breeze.

The crowd outside thickens, voices raised in feverish anticipation. A match tonight.

Seren turns her head just enough to glance at the entrance. Curiosity flickers across her face, quickly hidden.

“You wish to see the bloodshed?” I murmur, amused.

Her storm-gray eyes snap to mine, but she schools her expression before I can catch what lingers beneath. “No.”

Liar.

I guide her through the city’s winding paths until we reach the higher cliffs, where the jungle thins and the estates rise like monuments to those who own them.

Mine stands at the deepest part of the world.

The estate is built upon a sheer rock face, overlooking the endless green. The main hall looms behind intricate obsidian pillars, its structure sharp, unadorned, because wealth is measured in land, not embellishments. Beyond the terraces, the garden sprawls wild, vines and luminous flowers creeping along the paths like living veins.

No torches mar the dark. No oil lamps flicker in the windows. We don't obstruct the sky here.

The cosmos shattered once, birthing our gods, and in the silence of the open air, we honor them.

The guards step aside at my approach, though their gazes never stray from Seren.

Curiosity. Suspicion.

They will ask questions. They will wonder why I have brought this human here instead of discarding her like the rest.

I don't owe them answers.

I release the chain, letting it rattle against the stone floor. "Inside."

She doesn't move.

Not in fear. Not in rebellion.

She is measuring me.

I watch her eyes flick to the left, to the jungle, the drop below, to the gates standing open behind us. Calculating.

She lifts her chin and steps forward, passing into my domain like a blade being drawn from its sheath.

She should be afraid.

She is not.

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