There was something in his eyes that terrified her even more than usual. It was the intensity that she usually saw in his gaze, and this time it was back with twice as much force.
"Yes, my king!" the lords responded one after the other as they got up and bowed before moving to the door.
The servants had already risen and scrambled away while vigorously bowing their heads. Even Rymora, Aria’s servant, was nowhere to be found, and soon the hall was empty as the door was pulled shut.
But still Aria was unable to tear her gaze from the door even after everyone had left, until she felt a hand on her thighs which made her instantly jerk back.
Hard enough that she would have fallen on the ground if Zyren’s arm wasn’t holding her around the waist.
A sly smirk at the edge of his lips even as he stared right at her, his gaze moving from her face down to her neck and right down to her bare legs.
Aria hated the way he looked at her. Hated how his silence twisted the tension in the air until it felt unbearable. But she wasn’t going to let it linger—she had to speak. She had to say it.
She forced herself to look down at him, searching his expression and meeting those dark red eyes, even though every part of her body screamed not to.
"I–I..." Her voice wavered, her lips trembling as the words faltered on her tongue.
Her heart felt like it had stopped, then started again with painful slowness. Zyren watched her quietly, his eyes narrowing with interest, the smirk on his face widening slightly with every passing second. He didn’t speak. He didn’t press. He was waiting, watching, amused.
"I did it!" Aria finally forced out through clenched teeth, her voice shaking with rage and fear. It came out more like a shout than a confession, and as the words hit the air, it felt like she had handed herself over to death itself.
"I—" she began again, desperate to repeat it, to make sure he understood. But he cut her off before she could even get to the second word.
"Clearly," Zyren said, his voice low and biting, and the smirk on his lips widened even further. "Everyone here knew that."
Aria blinked in stunned confusion.
"...anyone with a brain cell," he added flatly, the mockery clear in his tone. "I mean, who else would be stupid enough to try to poison me?"
The emphasis on me made her flinch. Like the idea of anyone else being susceptible to death was fine—but not him. As if he wasn’t mortal at all.
Before she could even think of a response, she felt his hand again—warm and wandering, sliding across her thighs with bold entitlement, creeping higher toward her backside.
Aria stiffened instantly, trying to jerk away again, only to be reminded that she had no escape. There was nowhere to go. Zyren’s arm around her waist was an unbreakable cage.
"What do you think your punishment should be?" he asked suddenly, his voice calm but cold, like he was discussing something as mundane as a weather forecast. The question hung in the air like smoke, heavy and suffocating.
Aria’s frown deepened, her confusion mixing with growing revulsion.
And then she felt it—his hand pulling her closer until her body was pressed against his, and she felt the unmistakable hardness beneath his clothes.
A flush of red climbed up her neck, her chest tightening with raw fury as her body trembled.
"The bodies you killed..." she choked out, her voice cracking with emotion as tears welled in her eyes and spilled freely down her cheeks. "...they’re not even cold on the ground."
Her voice was raw, the words filled with loathing. But Zyren didn’t flinch. He didn’t look guilty. He didn’t even look irritated. His hand slid up her thigh again, gripping her rear without hesitation, and she gasped, trying to push away—but his grip around her middle only tightened.
"We?" he repeated into her ear, his voice smooth and dark. "You mean the ones we killed?"
The words made her go still.
Like ice had replaced the blood in her veins.
"What?" she whispered, breathless, heart frozen.
"I have never killed anyone in—"
"Tell me then," he cut in, his voice suddenly soft—too soft. It was almost gentle, like he was trying to soothe a frightened animal. But his eyes were sharp, glinting with a cruel kind of intelligence that saw through everything.
"Is there a difference... between killing with a blade... and standing by while they died for your crime?"
"I—I was going to speak!" she shouted, hot tears pouring from her eyes. "I-I was gonna—"
"You were scared," he said simply, and for a moment it almost sounded like understanding.
But Aria didn’t care.
"You’re a monster!" she snapped. Her voice was hoarse, but each word came out hard and fast. "A murderer—and nothing but a killer!"
Her chest heaved with every breath, her body shaking with the force of her hatred. She looked at him with everything she had—all the fear, all the revulsion, all the pain—and all she saw in return was amusement.
His eyes glittered with cruel humor, as if her fury entertained him more than anything else ever could.
The corpses were still there. The blood was still fresh. The horror was still real.
And he laughed in the face of it.
Aria could no longer take it. She moved to get off him, slowly pressing her palm against his chest as she tried to rise, hoping her calm movements wouldn’t provoke him.
Her voice wavered as she tried to find an excuse.
"I feel a bit unwell. I’d like to—"
But she never got to finish.
In one swift, unexpected motion, he tugged her back. This time it was rougher—stronger—unapologetically forceful.
She gasped, beyond shocked to feel something soft smashing right against her lips the very next moment.