The hallway tilted, torches blurring at the edges as my knees nearly buckled. I forced myself steady, swallowing down the surge of hope burning in my throat.
“Why would you offer me that?” I asked in a strained voice.
Theron’s shrug was infuriatingly casual, the kind only the dangerous wore with ease. “Because I can.”
I laughed bitterly. “And erode all thattrustyou’ve been building with the king? My, how uncharacteristic of you.”
His lips curved again … not in amusement, but in something far more unsettling. “What makes you think the king will ever know?”
The words slid under my skin, and my breath stuttered. For a moment I couldn’t tell if it was warning or temptation tugging at me.
I studied him. “What will it cost me?”
His eyes gleamed. “Why do you assume it must cost something, Helena?”
It was the first time he’d said my name—Helena—not “my queen” or “Your Majesty” said mockingly. The way he said my name was soft and startling, like he knew the weight of it. Like he meant to hold it carefully.
“Because everything does.”
A flicker passed through his gaze … not mischief this time, but something hungrier, edged with charm he wore like armor. “Yes,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “I could see you thinking like that. Especially when I’m giving you so much.”
He glanced up at the ceiling, as though weighing invisible scales. For a long moment, he looked almost contemplative, his lips pursed like a man turning over a puzzle in his mind.
And then the spark lit.
His eyes brightened with the satisfaction of a brilliant idea just born. “I’ve got it,” he murmured excitedly. “We’ll seal the deal with a drop of blood.”
I stiffened. “No.”
His brow lifted, not in shock, but with that infuriating flicker of quiet amusement. “Why not?”
Heat rushed to my face, my pulse slamming in my throat. “Because blood isn’t a trinket to be bartered,” I snapped. “It binds. It remembers. It gives power … and I’ll not hand mine to you.”
His lips parted, just slightly, before curving again—this time into something more intrigued than mocking. “I’m obviously not alamia, Your Majesty. I assume that’s what you’re thinking of, isn’t it?”
Heat prickled my neck. Gods, how did he read me so easily?
The old stories whispered of the lamia, creatures cursed with a thirst for blood, slipping into bedchambers to drink from children and men alike. Mothers used the tales to frighten girls into obedience, warning us that giving too much of ourselves would turn us into something hollow and ravenous.
One important part of the legends though … the lamia were always women.
He stepped closer when I stayed silent, his shadow stretching long across the floor. “I’m not a beast, Helena.”
“No,” I said tightly, my gaze locked on his. “You’re something far more dangerous.”
His grin unfurled as though I’d handed him a gift instead of an accusation. His head tipped, eyes glinting like he was already savoring the shape of my fear.
“Do you have any other choice?” he asked, and this time his voice was filled with pity.
The wordchoicelingered between us, mocking.
Choice. As if I hadn’t signed it away in my vows. As if I hadn’t been used like a vessel, emptied and filled again at another’s command. As if I had ever been allowed it at all, since the day my village realized my beauty might benefit them.
“How long can you last like this?”
Another trail of the king’s seed slipped down my skin like it had been summoned by his words.
My stomach lurched. Revulsion sliced up my throat, bile stinging the back of my tongue. I pressed my thighs together as though I could erase it, as though I could force the filth back inside where no one could see. But it clung, shameless, running over the cut on my leg like proof of everything I couldn’t hide.
