Page 6

6

SEREN

T he walls of my chamber breathe.

The architecture is ruthless, black stone carved with sharp angles, the design more fortress than home. No useless decorations, no fragile furniture. Even the bed is built into the rock itself, as if it has always been here, waiting for whoever is foolish enough to rest within these walls.

The night outside is not silent.

A city of warriors doesn't sleep.

The distant roar of the arena still echoes through the cliffs, a hungry sound, vibrating in my bones. Below, the jungle hums, creatures slithering through the underbrush, wings beating against thick, humid air, the unseen watching from the branches above.

Nothing here is tame.

I pace to the window, my bare feet soundless on the polished stone, and look beyond the edge of the estate. The jungle pulses beneath the moonlight, the vines and ferns swaying despite the stillness of the wind. Some of the leaves shimmer with a faint glow, a reflection of Feher’s favor, the naga’s god of land and water.

I’ve heard of them gods. Naga’s believe in them. Deep, old, and uninterested in mercy.

I flex my wrists against the lingering weight of the chains, but there’s no resistance. He left them undone.

He should not have.

Xirath doesn't treat me as lesser than dirt beneat his shoe, a slave. He has not given orders to kneel, has not stripped me of the simple clothing I was given, has not touched me beyond what was necessary. Yet I feel his presence more than any master before him.

The silence he left behind is worse than his words.

Because he is waiting.

I should have expected it. A naga doesn't give anything freely, not land, not power, not even control. They make you take it.

I will.

The exit is beyond the hall, past the open balcony where I saw him disappear earlier. I slip through the doorway, pressing against the cool stone as I move, my breath steady, my heartbeat measured.

If I don't leave now, I never will.

Each step forward is calculated, the awareness of this fortress wrapping around me like a predator that has already caught its prey, waiting for the moment I notice.

A shadow flickers across the corridor ahead.

I press myself back against the carved stone, pulse quickening. The naga guards have not been unkind, but they are still his. And I doubt Xirath would appreciate waking to find me gone.

I count my breaths. One. Two.

The figure moves beyond the archway, vanishing deeper into the estate.

I press forward.

The open hall stretches before me, leading to the jungle beyond.

I am two steps from freedom when his voice slithers through the night.

“Running so soon?”

I stop.

Not because he has commanded it. Because I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me startled.

Xirath leans against one of the carved pillars, bathed in moonlight, golden eyes gleaming in the darkness. His tail coils beside him, not blocking my path but reminding me that he doesn't need to.

He lets the silence drag between us, long enough to force me to acknowledge it.

"Perhaps you misheard me earlier," I say, turning slowly. "I don't belong to you."

His expression remains unreadable, but something dangerous flickers beneath it.

He pushes away from the pillar, crossing the distance between us in a slow, effortless glide, his body moving with the lethal grace of something that has never been hunted.

He stops just short of me, tilting his head slightly. "You’re right."

I blink.

He steps closer. "You don't belong to me."

The heat of his presence presses against me, something primal stretching between us like a rope pulled too tight.

"But," he continues, his voice lower now, "you are in my kingdom. You are in my home. And you are in my way."

I narrow my eyes. “Your way?”

His gaze drops slightly, not in submission. He is watching the pulse at my throat. Calculating. Considering.

"You will not survive out there," he says smoothly, nodding toward the jungle. "Not before my guards catch you. Not before something else does."

I don't let him see the ripple of doubt that drags its claws down my spine.

The jungle is alive in ways I don't understand. And I am not foolish enough to believe it is merciful.

But staying is worse.

Xirath watches me for another breath, then exhales slowly, shaking his head. "You are stubborn."

"You are arrogant," I return.

His amusement is sharp. "So I have been told."

He moves then, slow, deliberate, his tail curling around me, not restraining, not quite touching, but caging me in place with something far more dangerous than steel.

I feel the change before he speaks again.

"You have one night to decide," he murmurs.

My fingers tighten into fists. "Decide what?"

His golden gaze holds mine, unwavering. "If you would rather be my guest or my prisoner."

A thrill of fury laces through me.

"I am not your prisoner," I bite out.

Xirath leans forward just slightly, his forked tongue flickering out once, so brief, so subtle, I might have imagined it. But the slight twitch of his jaw, the flicker of his pupils, he just tasted something.

A lie.

His smirk is slow, deliberate. "Then you have nothing to fear."

I grit my teeth as he steps back, the absence of his presence more frustrating than the threat itself.

"Sleep well, Seren," he murmurs, turning away.

I glare after him, my entire body burning with the unspoken war building between us.

This is not a cage, not yet.

But he is waiting for me to trap myself.