Page 27

I grunt in acknowledgment. “It’s temporary, just until I rectify this situation.”

She dips her head but says nothing more.

I sense her disapproval, and it gnaws at me.

Does she think my solution is cowardice?

I push the thought aside, uncorking a vial to examine the swirling mixture.

The scent is pungent, reminiscent of crushed herbs and something metallic. My tail thrashes once.

I weigh the cost of swallowing this brew: a forced numbness that might keep me from repeating last night’s impulsive act.

The alternative is to let this madness flourish.

The memory of Mira’s soft moans resurfaces, stirring desire in my gut.

My throat tightens. I might not be able to resist her if the chance arises again.

But if I feed that hunger, how long until the council’s wrath descends upon us both?

At last, I raise the vial to my lips, bracing for bitterness, and down half of it in one go.

The taste is vile, scorching a path down my throat.

My eyes water, and I cough, but within moments, an odd numbness begins to spread through my limbs.

It’s not a total sedation, more like a dampening of the coiled tension in my gut.

My tail relaxes, movements growing sluggish.

A mental haze drifts in, dulling the heated fantasies that tormented me all morning.

I slump into the chair, panting softly. My scalp prickles, and for a moment, I fear I might pass out.

Gradually, the sensation stabilizes. My mind feels both clearer and unnervingly distant, as though I’m viewing my life through a pane of tinted glass.

The fiery longing that plagued me shrinks to a faint ember.

Relief mingles with dread. This might be what I need to maintain control, though it tastes too close to self-inflicted apathy for my liking.

A sudden knock jolts me from my stupor. “Enter,” I call, voice lower than usual.

Crick steps in, arching a brow. “My lord, you look... unwell.” His gaze drifts to the half-empty vial on my desk, suspicion flickering in his slitted eyes. “Are you mixing potions now?”

I scowl. “That’s none of your business.”

He crosses his arms, ignoring the bristling note in my tone.

“I heard talk about you and the human girl, how you’ve been seen more often together.

” He shrugs, tail swishing. “People notice. Are you sure doping yourself with potions is the solution? Instead of, I don’t know, forging a real plan to handle the council? ”

I bristle, the suppressed anger flaring, though less intensely than it would without the potion’s effect. “I do not require your counsel. The council hasn’t found cause to strike yet.”

Crick snorts. “They will, if Rahlazen says anything. Or if rumors spread that you’re dabbling with a human as though she’s more than a servant.” His gaze sharpens. “I’ve heard you might send her away. Is that wise?”

My chest tightens at the mention of sending Mira away. The memory of her parted lips, the warmth in her eyes, resurfaces, only to be muffled by the potion’s haze. “Wise or not, it might be the only path.”

Crick releases a frustrated breath. “If you truly want to exile her from here, that’s your choice. But I’ve seen what that does to naga who care, even if they won’t admit it.”

I bare my fangs in a silent snarl. “Care,” I echo mockingly. “I do what I must to protect this territory from meddling. She’s a risk.”

Crick studies me for a long moment before turning to leave. “All right,” he mutters. “But from the look in your eyes, I doubt you’ll find peace that way.” Then he’s gone, shutting the door behind him.

A hollow ache spreads through me, even under the effects of the suppressant. Anger ebbs, replaced by a faint sense of dread. Perhaps I can’t shut down my emotions entirely, no matter how potent the brewer’s concoction is. The conversation with Crick stirs an ache that the haze can’t fully smother.

I push to my feet, ignoring the slight unsteadiness in my limbs, and pace the study.

My tail drags behind me, not quite responding with its usual snap.

The silence within these walls presses down, thick and inescapable.

I recall the old ways: a naga must never demonstrate weakness.

Letting a human occupy my bed, unbound by ritual, is considered an unforgivable breach by many.

If it becomes known, I risk the entire estate.

Or I risk losing her, in a way that might be final.

An idea prods me: Perhaps if I ensure she’s physically safe by sending her to some remote village, my guilt might be lessened.

Then I can numb myself until I no longer feel this maddening connection.

But each time I envision her parted from me, that faint ember flares into protest. I grip the desk, wrestling with the swirl of conflicting impulses.

Footsteps approach again, and Sahrine enters without waiting for permission. She stands near the threshold, cane tapping softly. “My lord, I checked on Mira. She’s in her room, awake and apparently... unsettled by your absence.”

I inhale, the mention of her name stirring the suppressed longing. “Unsettled?” I echo, voice tight.

Sahrine inclines her head. “She noticed you left without a word. She’s not sure if you regret what happened, or if she should vanish from your presence.”

My tail flicks with leftover irritation. “And you came to inform me of this?”

“She’s fragile right now. You are as well,” Sahrine says calmly. “You’re forcing a potion to quell your urges, which might be prudent for short-term control, but it won’t resolve the deeper conflict. Speak to her.”

A low growl builds in my throat. “Speaking to her will only inflame my instincts. I risk repeating our mistake.”

Sahrine’s expression remains calm, though concern flickers. “Your instincts, as you call them, might be more than animal urges. Pushing her away may break you more thoroughly, my lord.”

I let out a shaky exhale, the potion dulling some of my frustration but not the core of my turmoil. “Then I must bear that cost,” I murmur. “Better I break than let the council devour us both.”

She cants her head slightly. “Is that truly the only option you see?”

Heat prickles along my neck. “Go,” I snap, tail slamming the floor in a muted show of anger. “I will handle this.”

Sahrine bows her head and leaves. I’m left in the hush, mind spinning with the ramifications of her words. Break more thoroughly? I recall the dark time after my betrothed’s betrayal, how I nearly retreated from life entirely. The memory stings. Could losing Mira be a similar blow?

I swallow thickly, pressing a hand over the place where my heart hammers.

The potion can dull physical desire, but not the deeper ache.

The day wears on, each passing hour a slow torment.

I bury myself in reading, sign off on supply requests, oversee a guard rotation.

The numbness helps me function, at least. But behind the numbness lurks the knowledge that this can’t continue indefinitely.

Close to dusk, I slip outside to the lesser courtyard, hoping the open air will clear my head.

The sky deepens into purple and gold, setting the jungle silhouettes aflame.

Thick vines drape over the courtyard walls, and the smell of earth hangs in the evening air.

Despite the potion, a dull pounding behind my temples warns I’m overwrought.

Crick stands by the gate, nodding once as I pass. He seems to sense my mood and stays silent, letting me pace alone. The memory of Mira’s parted lips returns, and I fight it down. I need rational solutions, not longing.

At length, I hear quiet footsteps behind me.

Turning, I see Mira standing in the courtyard entrance, wearing a simple tunic, her hair pinned with that damnable comb that glints in the fading light.

Her expression is anxious, eyes flicking to my tail’s subtle flick.

The sight triggers a wave of conflicting emotions, pressing against the potion’s haze.

She approaches cautiously. “Vahziryn.”

My name on her lips ignites a suppressed tremor in my chest. I keep my face cold, or try to. “You should be resting.”

She stops a few steps away, arms hanging at her sides. “I couldn’t, not when you disappeared.” She draws a careful breath. “Are you all right?”

A bitter laugh lodges in my throat. “I’m fine,” I say, voice hollow. “Return to your duties or your room. I can’t linger with you.”

Her brow knits. “Last night— I thought...” She trails off, confusion clouding her face. “Did I do something wrong?”

My stomach twists. “No,” I murmur, aware my posture is stiff, my tail coiled around my own leg as if to restrain me. “I did something reckless. We both did. I can’t repeat that mistake.”

Pain flashes in her gaze, fueling a pang of guilt. “So it was a mistake,” she repeats quietly. “Why?”

I try to quell my frustration, the potion’s dulling effect making me speak more flatly than I intend. “Because I risk everything with you. The council, my domain, your safety... all of it is jeopardized by one night of surrender. Understand?”

Her eyes shimmer with hurt, but she stands firm. “I see.” A tremor laces her voice. “You’d cast me aside to protect yourself?”

Anger flares, roiling beneath the veneer of numbness. “It’s not that simple,” I snap. “If the council learns I bedded a human without formal rites, they could come for us both. I have to be rational.”

She lifts her chin, quiet steel in her gaze. “Rational. By ignoring me, pretending nothing happened?”

My tail slaps the ground in a dull thump. “This isn’t about ignoring you. It’s about saving your life.”

Her lips part, a ragged exhale escaping. “If I’m so unsafe here, send me away. Is that what you want?”

My chest constricts. The words come out harsher than I intend. “Perhaps. That might be best.”