Page 26 of Crowned In Venom

26

ANYA

T he kiss is fire and ruin.

I should hate it.

I should hate him.

Instead, I burn.

Even now, minutes—or has it been hours?—since she left his bedroom, the taste of him lingers on my lips, the ghost of his hands still branding my skin.

I touch my mouth, fingers trembling just slightly.

It should not have happened.

Not like that.

Not with heat instead of hunger.

Not with desperation instead of dominance.

I have been kissed before.

I have been taken before.

But this…

This was different.

And that is what terrifies me.

The halls seem emptier than before.

Or maybe I am the one who has changed.

I walk through the winding corridors, my body moving on instinct, my thoughts still tangled in the space between what just happened and what it means.

Varkos had kissed me before. But not like that.

That was not control.

That was not the game.

That was something else.

And I let him.

Worse—I kissed him back.

I should have pulled away.

I should have laughed in his face, reminded him what I am—a weapon in waiting, a lie wrapped in soft skin.

Instead, I melted into him, gasped against his mouth, clung to him like I needed more.

Like I wanted it.

No.

Like I wanted him.

I am so caught in the war inside me that I almost do not see it.

The smear of crimson staining the floor ahead.

A sharp metallic scent lingers in the air—iron and death.

A warning.

My steps slow, my breath hitching as I turn the corner.

And then?—

I see her.

Mira.

Her body collapsed in a heap against the cold stone, her dress torn, her lifeless eyes staring at nothing.

A gasp lodges in my throat, sharp as broken glass.

No.

Not her.

Not again.

My feet move before my mind catches up.

I drop to my knees beside her, my hands hovering over the wound in her throat—deep, clean, deliberate.

It was not messy.

Not a crime of passion.

This was a message.

A reminder.

The palace walls close in around me.

I press a hand over my mouth, swallowing the scream clawing its way up my throat.

Mira is dead.

Because of me.

The past slams into me like a dagger to the ribs.

A memory—vivid, searing, inescapable.

I see flames licking at the sky.

I hear screams breaking the night.

I smell the acrid stench of burning flesh.

I am seventeen again, hiding in the hollow of a tree as my village turns to ash.

Bodies litter the ground—women, men, children—all left for the crows.

The dark elves had taken everything.

Slaughtered. Pillaged. Destroyed.

And among them?—

Varkos’s clan.

The crest on their armor, the colors they bore—I remember it all.

I had buried it deep, locked it away where it could not touch me.

But now, with Mira’s lifeless body before me, it crashes back with brutal force.

Varkos’s people.

Varkos’s men.

Varkos.

His empire was built on the bones of mine.

And I?—

I kissed him.

I let him touch me.

I let myself want him.

The taste of him turns to poison in my mouth.

I close my eyes, pressing my forehead to Mira’s cooling skin.

I do not cry.

There is no one left to cry for.

But something inside me breaks.

Something that should never have been whole in the first place.

I force my breath to steady, my hands curling into fists.

I do not have the luxury of grief.

Mira is dead.

Because of me.

Because I was careless.

Because I let myself become distracted.

Because I let myself forget.

I will not forget again.

The fire inside me—the one I thought had died with my family—flares back to life.

A hunger.

A purpose.

A promise.

Varkos is not mine to want.

I must destroy the Matriarch. Nip the bud.

This place is mine to destroy.

I rise slowly, Mira’s blood staining my knees.

I glance down at her one last time, and I swear it.

For her.

For my village.

For every life stolen, for every chain fastened around a human throat.

I will burn his world to the ground.

And this time?—

I will not hesitate.