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"What?"
"Well, the way I see it, I am the only person standing between you and two kingdoms that want you dead." He smiles against my skin. "And as I've said, there's nothing I won't do to keep you safe. If after that, you still want to kill me for the part I've played, I will relish the challenge. Even coated in my own blood from your attempts on my life, I'll still happily come to you and make you scream with unimaginable pleasure every single night until you succeed."
"Kairon—"
"Yes, my Elva," he purrs.
I push him away. "I will not play these games with—"
"Stop," he says suddenly, pushing away from the table so quickly I nearly fall over from the force of it. "Get under the table and say nothing."
My instinct is to ask him what's happening, but before I can, his palm lands on my mouth, a flood of nerves, confusion, and rage flowing from him into me. His eyes are pleading, so I nod and do as he says, crawling underneath our workspace and making myself as small as possible.
A guard runs into the room, and from my vantage point, all I can see is Kairon's legs as he wraps his cloak around them, presumably wearing his helm as well. He sits in one of the chairs, sending the other with a guard to set on the other side of the library.
His posture is entirely wrong, too relaxed and calm, with one ankle over the opposite knee. This false languidness he's portraying makes me terrified to see who or what is about to walk through those doors.
The squeak of the doors swinging open is accompanied by a voice I had hoped never to hear again. Even in my nightmares, I am fortunate enough to wake before she speaks to me.
"Your Majesty," the Syren Queen pants, sounding as if she's just run all the way here.
"Valta," the king drawls. "How brave of you to show up here. You must know I'm going to kill you for daring to walk through those doors after threatening one of my guests."
"Your pet was going to be just fine," the queen spits, and the king's rage grows, his protectiveness washing over me like scalding bath water. "All you had to do was tell me what you were doing to find my Vanya. Where is she now, by the way? I'd very much like to apologize."
Kairon tenses. "She's gone. Probably home by now."
"Lying to me again, Your Majesty." Valta's foot stomps, the sloshing sound reaching my ears.
"I have not once lied to you." The king's foot bounces with impatience. "I do not take kindly to threats or accusations, Valta. Why should I let you live now?"
"I have proof of your lies, Horned Devil," she bites.
"Then provide them."
The snap of her fingers fills the air, followed by footsteps and the sound of something heavy and wet being dragged across the floor.
"What is that supposed to be?" Kairon asks, disgust in his voice.
"That," Valta replies, "is your right-hand man that you claimed was searching for my Vanya all this time."
If Kairon is surprised, he doesn't show it, and his emotions don't change at all.
"Where was he found?"
After a pause, the queen ignores his question. "So you won't even deny that you're behind this."
His hand slams against the table, and I have to cover my mouth so as not to scream from the startling impact. "Where. Was. He. Found."
"My scouts found him impaled off the cliffs of Rhyma," she finally admits.
"When?"
"Two nights ago," the queen answers again.
The king sighs, and I can almost picture him rubbing his eyes with his thumb and fingers now if he could.
"Why did you not come to me sooner?" His voice is quiet and defeated.
