Page 73 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

With the truth.

I should let her go.

But I won’t.

32

SEREN

The rumors slither through the stronghold like a slow-spreading rot, curling into dark corners and whispered conversations.

She’s seducing him.

She’s making him weak.

She is his death.

They do not speak these words in my presence, but I hear them anyway.

I see it in the way they look at me.

The naga warriors have always been indifferent at best, hostile at worst. I am human, a creature beneath their notice, a fragile thing to be used, discarded. But this?

This is something else.

Disdain sharpens in their stares, suspicion woven into their movements. They believe I have corrupted him.

They believe I have tainted their leader with my presence, turned him reckless, driven him to a path of destruction.

Perhaps they are not wrong.

Xirath has been different these past days, his absence stretching longer, his eyes darker, the tension a tightening noose between us.

Something is breaking inside him, and they see it.

They see me as the cause.

They are not entirely wrong.

But they are mistaken if they think I will apologize for it.

The training ground is alive with steel and blood.

Naga soldiers clash in sparring rings, sharpening their brutality, moving with the kind of elegance only warriors bred for war possess.

I push through the tension in my limbs, ignoring the ache in my ribs from an earlier match. Training has become my anchor, a way to silence the storm in my mind.

Until he steps in front of me.

His presence is imposing, a warrior whose scars tell more stories than his words ever will.

Jhoren.

A high-ranking commander, ruthless and loyal to his people—loyal to Xirath.

He is furious.

Golden reptilian eyes burn into me, unreadable yet unmistakable in their intent.

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