His crown tumbled free when his head slanted, clattering against marble, forgotten. Those black eyes narrowed, searching for an answer he thought was maybe written on my skin. The oiled dark of his hair shifted, and for a flicker the light swayed, catching the point of his ear in a curve.
His breath was sour enough to choke as he dragged me closer, words dripping between gritted teeth. “I know what you did, you fucking snake.” I forced myself to inhale through the rot, until his next whisper stole the air from me altogether. “I knowwhoyou are.”
My eyes darted to Killian. Had he told him? Slipped the truth along the same mental thread he’d wound through me?
But no, his face wasn’t smug. It was afraid.
Obrann flung me aside, chains rattling as I crashed to the floor. Straightening, he folded his hands neatly behind his back as a servant scurried, setting the crown upon his head once more.
He looked the part of a king again. Composed. Calculated. Laughter filled the space as he loomed above me, pacing.
“And here I thought you’d live up to the stories of the horror and dread. You have spirit, I’ll give you that. A fire in you.” Slowly, Obrann turned, eyes finding mine. “Shame it’s wasted on someone so painfully insignificant.”
I lifted my chin, an unhurried motion, and said, “You need me beneath you to forget how smallyoutruly are.” His grin faltered. “But even from my knees,” my eyes dragged up his frame, “I still look down on you.”
His hand twitched toward his sword, as if he really contemplated carving me down that very second. Casually, he asked, “Do you admit to killing my son?”
He knew. He’d always known. Killian had nothing to do with it. This was all a performance. Power dressed as justice.
So, I gave him what he wanted. “I hope his last breath was the most excruciating second of his life.”
Gasps cracked across the room, faces turned, outraged and horrified, as Obrann spun back to me, wine-dark fury flashing in his glare.
“Actually,” I added sweetly, “with that poison, it was probably five minutes of agony.”
The venom had melted seamlessly into the berries and grapes of the wine, undetectable as perfume in a crowded hall. By the time they’d found him, Perseus was already beyond saving.
And Mina, she wasn’t here. Which meant she was far away. Exactly where she should be.
Obrann swallowed, a tight click in his throat. But instead of exploding, he nodded, calm, almost serene, and stepped toward Killian, giving him one look.
Bowing, Killian withdrew, back to Elva’s side.
Then Obrann turned back. “You used the poison from your fangs, yes?” His hand shot toward my mouth.
The floor dropped beneath me. “What?”
He uttered the words no one should have dared to within these walls. “Verena Vale, I know you’re the Viper.”
A sharp cry cracked through the ringing in my skull. Elva shot up from her chair, arm outstretched for me—
But it was caught before she even got a step, tugged back by Fritz. Her eyes found mine, pleading and terrified.
Chaos shattered around us in a fit of glass—goblets and anger hurtling toward me across the marble. I lifted my arms to shield my face, but none reached me.
All at once they disintegrated mid-air. Not from impact, but from light. Blinding, searing beams that left only dust at my feet.
Elva.
She collapsed back into her chair, her skin whiter than snowfall, where a servant fanned her frantically.
That didn’t stop the defamation.
“Cursed scum!”
“Kill her now!”
“She’ll damn us all!”
