Page 88 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

I grit my teeth.

"He is one of us," she continues. "And no matter what delusions you have, he will never choose you."

A slow, creeping rage claws its way up my chest.

Not just at her words, but at the truth in them.

Her smile does not waver.

"Xirath and I grew up together," she says. "I have watched him break men in battle, watched him make the impossible bow beneath his will."

Her voice softens, almost pitying.

"But even he cannot fight fate."

A lump lodges in my throat.

She leans down, voice a whisper against my ear.

"And you, little human," she breathes, "are not his fate."

I can’t breathe.

Can’t move.

Her words sink into me like poisoned fangs, wrapping around the fragile, dangerous thing inside my chest.

She steps back, tilting her head slightly, watching me crack.

She smiles.

"I will make sure of it."

She turns without another word, disappearing down the corridor, leaving me standing there, shaking.

Leaving me with the taste of humiliation, heartbreak, fury.

I was a fool.

A fool to think I could be anything to him.

It was stupid of me to entertain the idea he would ever want me.

I will not make that mistake again.

38

XIRATH

Seren is not herself.

The training pits echo with the familiar sounds of combat, clashing weapons, the sharp exhale of exertion, the hiss of steel meeting flesh. Yet, she moves like a ghost.

Her stance is perfect, her strikes controlled, but she fights like she doesn’t care.

Like it doesn’t matter.

That is not the human who defied me at every turn, who refused to break, who turned even submission into rebellion.

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