The palace corridors felt longer that night. Or maybe not longer, maybe it was just me dragging my feet like I was walking through mud. The torches sputtered—dim, or maybe my eyes were dimmer, I don’t know—and the air felt thicker, like it had weight.
And Arabella’s words wouldn’t get out of my head.
Perhaps it is you who doesn’t see how deep you already are in his snare.
I swear I could still hear them, over and over, like an echo bouncing off stone. Snakes coiling in my mind. Poison I couldn’t spit out.
By the time we reached my chamber, my shoulders were knotted tight. Wren shoved the door shut—too hard, it rattled—and Gideon was already standing at the hearth like some statue, fire carving shadows across his face.
We sat in silence. Well, stood, sat, breathed, but no words. And it
