“I thought that throne was intended for me?” Lamia mutters as she enters the room, flapping her ashen, skeletal wings.
“It is,” I say, my cheeks flushing slightly, “I was just… seeing how it felt.”
She raises an eyebrow at me but decides not to respond. She approaches toward the center of the room, and the sound of her burned flesh rustling as she walks sounds like crumpled newspaper.
“Did you bring it?” She asks as her eyes glance over to the box in Eric’s hands.
“We did,” I say, standing up from the throne.
She lifts her stump of an arm toward me and smiles, her pointed teeth in stark contrast to her charred flesh. “Then let’s do this,” she says.
I walk toward her, placing myself between her and Eric. “I need to be sure of your loyalty, Lamia,” I say, my fingers holding tight to th
