She tugged nervously at her sleeve, fingers moving over the embroidered vine at her wrist. “My family and I are originally from Nyctom.” A shadow crossed her face. “Prince Ronan welcomed us into his borders after the kingdom fell.”
I stilled. That was not the Ronan the world spoke of. Even the falsities I’d heard hadn’t painted him so. The heir of Ryuu, breaker of souls, terror of battlefields, granting sanctuary to outsiders?
Her anxiety hung fragile in the air, as if she regretted spilling the truth at all. I caught it, tucked it away, and offered her the softest smile I could manage. Not the Viper’s grin, not the sharp curl of fangs. Just a promise—her secret, if it was one, was safe.
Steam curled up from the bath, sweet with lavender, tangy with lemon. I slid my fingers through it, watching bubbles collapse under my touch, the oil off it already clinging to my skin.
“That’s a wonderful gift to carry,” I murmured, glancing back at her. “A nature wielder. I have a friend back home who’s one too. A brilliant one. He’s very proud.”
Rook’s laugh snuck up in the corner of my mind, Duke’s steady presence close behind. A lump swelled in my throat. I missed them. I felt their absence like a punishment. Were they safe? Did they wonder the same of me? Or had the chaos I’d left behind already swallowed them whole?
A pleased little smirk danced across her lips, gone in an instant, like she hadn’t meant to let it slip. “Please, Ms. Vale, I am to help you prepare for dinner. If, that is, you wish to go.”
“I don’t need your help,” I blurted, too fast.
The words cut, and I saw it immediately in the way her face fell, lips pressing thin.
“I didn’t mean it like—” My eyes moved helplessly to the tub, my voice fading softer. “I just meant...it’s awkward, isn’t it?”
“If you would be more comfortable, I can step out until you are finished bathing. Then I will return to fix your hair and help you dress.”
I nodded quickly. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
She inclined her head, graceful in the way only someone used to making themselves small could be.
As she turned to leave, my hand lifted, stopping her. “Wait, you didn’t tell me your name.”
Bending low at the waist, she nodded and said, “Sylen, my lady.”
I pressed a hand to my chest, bowing to her in return. “Verena.”
The motion startled her. She backed away a step, eyes widening slow, something like horror releasing behind them. “I know who you are,” she breathed. “How…I…I can’t believe you’rehere.”
I swallowed. Of course she already knew. The curse was a stain everyone saw long before they sawme.
I lowered my chin. “Thank you again.”
My thoughts wandered recklessly down the bond as Sylen closed the door behind her. I sent Ronan an image—me, sinking into the bath, steam curling like his smoke around my bare skin.
It slammed into a wall, his end of the tether sealed tight. I exhaled through my teeth, the rejection a cold echo in the pit of my chest.
The water burned at first, like stepping into a flame meant to purify, and my lungs caged a gasp as my skin prickled. Slowly, the burn melted and the water cradled. I sank deeper, until only my face broke the surface. It felt indecent, almost, to allow this much softness after everything. It felt stolen.
The bond pulsed dimly and I prodded it again, a curious touch, thinking maybe the image I’d sent had finally reached him. Nothing. My chest tightened, a dark thrum rising, angrier than I meant it to be. I slid lower, submerging until the water muffled everything. The drip, the hush, even my own pulse.
The world vanished, except for the faint hiss that lived in me. The Viper’s hum. Always there.
For one long breath, I pretended the hiss was waves. Pretended I was just a girl in a bath, and not a curse dressed up in someone else’s skin.
The sapphire fabric slid like water over my skin, so soft it could only have been woven from something rarer than silk.
Sylen had murmured its truth in passing, spidergloss.Ronan’sspidergloss.
Locked away in vaults, untouched for years. Until today. Until me.
Which meant, in the last six hours, he had commanded someone to craft this, to measure and cut and shape it to me with precision, as though he already knew every curve, every inch of my body.
My fingers traced the drape of it, following its path down my frame. The top wrapped across me in a way that felt both scandalous and strategic—my right shoulder bared, exposed to the air, while the left side curved higher, veiling where the head of the viper mark lay in secret.
