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XIRATH

T he heat from Seren’s body consumes me, even as I step away from her, even as I force every fiber of control back into place.

The kiss still burns on my lips, searing through the wall of restraint I’ve spent decades building.

But I do not look back.

I do not let myself glance at the human woman standing in the private arena, the one who just tried to kill me, then tried to claim me.

Instead, I turn to the naga woman waiting at the entrance, the one who has every right to be here.

Talyra stands with her arms crossed, one elegant brow arched, emerald-green scales shimmering under the torchlight. Her tail flicks once against the stone floor, the movement slow, measured.

It’s not anger in her eyes. Not judgment.

Just curiosity.

She doesn’t speak right away, waiting for me to close the distance between us, waiting for me to be the first to acknowledge what just happened.

I sigh through my nose, flexing my fingers, trying to rid them of the memory of Seren’s skin beneath them.

Talyra tilts her head. "That’s the human, then?"

There is no need to ask which human.

I run a hand down my face. "You have no idea how little patience I have for this conversation right now."

She lets out a soft huff of amusement and falls into step beside me as I lead her down the corridor, away from the arena.

"You don’t have patience for any conversation," she says dryly. "Which is why it’s fortunate that I’m the one here first instead of the others."

The others.

The noble daughters.

The women I’m expected to choose from.

I roll my shoulders, but the tension remains knotted deep between them.

"How many are coming?" I ask.

"Four more," she says, keeping her gaze on me. "But we both know the others are here just to fill the numbers."

I glance at her, but she’s already watching me, reading me too easily.

We have known each other since childhood, long before my name carried weight, before my title made me a bargaining chip in the naga courts.

If there is one person in this realm who understands me, who has always understood me, it is her.

She is the only one who has ever spoken of my curse without fear.

Without cruelty.

Without using it against me.

I slow my steps, bracing myself. "Just say what you came to say."

She exhales through her nose, shaking her head. "I came because it was expected of me. The lords think we’re the best match. They believe I should bear your heirs."

Her voice is calm, measured.

It does not wound the way it should.

It does not spark anger.

Because she is not here to claim me.

She is here because they sent her.

I stop walking.

She halts beside me, lifting a brow. "You don’t need to look so alarmed, Xirath. I have no intention of mating with you."

Some of the tension eases from my chest.

She laughs softly. "Is that relief?"

I narrow my eyes. "You think I enjoy the idea of my fate being decided by a council of self-important lords?"

"I think you enjoy defying them too much to ever let them win," she counters smoothly.

She’s right.

But this time, they have leverage.

They are forcing my hand, and I have no way out of it.

Talyra’s gaze softens slightly. "You can’t keep avoiding it, Xirath. If your mate isn’t among the naga, then you need to check the human females."

The words are a dagger to the ribs.

She does not say it cruelly. She does not mock the way so many others have.

She is worried.

Truly worried.

But she is also wrong.

I clench my jaw. "It is not her."

Talyra studies me for a heartbeat longer, expression unreadable.

She exhales, tilting her head slightly. "You sound so certain."

I am.

The bond does not lie.

Yet something twists in my gut at the thought of Seren still standing in that arena, still watching me walk away.

Talyra folds her arms, tail coiling lightly against the floor. "You’re unraveling, Xirath."

I let out a sharp breath, too many expectations pressing down on me.

"Then let me unravel in peace," I mutter.

She snorts. "Unfortunately, the lords will not grant you that luxury."

I grit my teeth, knowing she’s right.

But I am not ready for this conversation.

For this decision.

A sudden rush of footsteps echoes down the corridor.

Two of my soldiers approach, their expressions tense.

"My lord," one of them says, bowing slightly. "You are needed."

I do not hesitate.

Talyra sighs, already stepping back. "Go. I’ll make myself at home, as you always insist."

There is no warmth in me as I turn away.

Only her words lingering behind.

The question I don’t want to face.

What should I do?