Page 60

Verrater leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "Our king has been through enough tragedy. The last thing he needs is to tie himself to another human—especially one who will die in what amounts to a blink of an eye for our kind."

I wanted to argue, wanted to point out that Drakhoni venom extended human lifespans, that there were hundreds of successful human-Drakhoni pairings. But the gag prevented me from saying anything, and Verrater didn't seem interested in a debate anyway.

"I've spent the past weeks watching you two together," he continued, his tone almost conversational. "The way he looks at you. The way he's started to smile again. How his entire demeanor shifts when you're near." He shook his head slowly. "It's exactly what I feared. And I cannot allow it to continue."

My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. I pulled against the ropes binding my wrists to the bedposts, testing their strength, but whoever had tied them knew what they were doing. The knots held firm.

Verrater stood and began to pace, his movements controlled and deliberate. "You're probably wondering how I knew about your relationship with the king." He glanced at me, something almost like amusement flickering in his eyes. "I'm not the only one who believes humans aren't proper Drakhoni mates. And when it became clear the king had fallen for you, I knew the time had come."

He stopped pacing and turned to face me fully. "I also knew that if I acted quickly, everyone would assume Rhucard was responsible. The northern chieftain has been vocal about his desire for human mates, and he was seen in the village yesterday. Almost too perfect. There's always been bad blood between King Kavan and Rhucard. If the king thinks Rhucard has taken you—hurt you—then the northern wastes and their desire for human females will no longer be an issue."

The casual way he discussed framing an innocent man made my blood run cold. This wasn't just about opposing human-Drakhoni relationships. This was calculated, methodical, and utterly ruthless.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself," Verrater said, returning to his chair. "You deserve to know the full truth, I think. You deserve to understand exactly what you've walked into."

He settled back into the seat, his posture relaxed despite the tension crackling through the air. "Seven hundred and fifty years ago, there was another human woman who caught our king's attention." His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Kavan was young then. Impulsive. He believed he'd found his blood singer, and he was determined to claim her."

My breath caught. Something in Verrater's tone made my skin crawl—a hint of satisfaction that had no place in a tragic tale.

"What Kavan doesn't know," Verrater continued, his voice dropping to something almost intimate, "is that Lord Huntingdon didn't discover his wife's plan on his own. He had help."

The implication hit me like ice water.

"I was the one who told him," Verrater said, confirming my suspicion. "I informed Lord Huntingdon that his wife planned to run away with another. I knew what he would do. I knew he was the jealous, violent type. All human males are. And I knew that if Marion died, Kavan would be devastated enough to never risk his heart again."

Horror washed over me in waves. This man—this monster—had orchestrated Marion's death. He'd manipulated events to ensure she'd be killed, all to prevent Kavan from taking a human mate.

"It worked beautifully," Verrater said, genuine pride threading through his voice. "Kavan was so consumed by grief and rage that he burned entire villages. The Alliance had no choice but to intervene, and we were put into hibernation. For seven hundred and fifty years, I believed the problem was solved. I believed Kavan would never allow himself to care for another human."

He leaned forward again, his golden eyes boring into mine. "And then you arrived. And I watched history begin to repeat itself."

I tried to speak, tried to tell him he was insane, that Kavan would figure it out, but the gag turned everything into muffled noise.

Verrater stood and moved closer to the bed. "I'm going to remove the gag now, Lady Hunter. But I want you to understand something first." His hand moved to his belt, and I saw the glint of a blade—small, ornate, but undoubtedly sharp. "If you scream, if you try to call for help, I'll be forced to take more drastic measures. Do you understand?"

I nodded, my heart racing. The moment he untied the gag and pulled it from my mouth, I gasped for air, my jaw aching from being held open for so long.

"There," Verrater said, stepping back. "That's better, isn't it?"

I worked my jaw, trying to get feeling back into it, then met his gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. "You're insane," I said, my voice hoarse. "Kavan will never forgive you for this. The Alliance will never forgive you for this."

"The Alliance will never know," Verrater replied calmly. "As far as anyone's concerned, you will simply disappeared. These things happen."

"Kavan will know," I said, putting every ounce of conviction I had into the words. "I'm his mate. He'll tear this planet apart looking for me."

"Perhaps," Verrater acknowledged. "But by the time he figures out where to look, it will be too late. You'll be gone. Just like Marion."

The comparison made anger flare hot in my chest, burning away some of the fear. "There's one problem with your plan," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I don't have a jealous husband to do your dirty work for you."

Verrater's expression didn't change. "No," he agreed. "You don't. Which means I'll have to handle your demise myself. Less poetic than Marion's death, I'll admit. But just as effective."

Hearing him discuss my murder with such detachment turned my blood to ice. But I refused to let him see how terrified I was. I'd dealt with difficult people before—admittedly, they'd been five-year-olds throwing tantrums, not ancient dragon shifters planning my death, but the principle was the same. Stay calm. Don't show weakness. Look for an opening.

"You won't get away with this," I said. "They're probably already looking for me."

"Let them look." Verrater shrugged. "This estate is remote, well-protected, and completely off any official records. By the time they think to search here, you'll be long gone." He puffed out his chest, preening. "My reputation is intact. No one will ever suspect me."

He moved toward the door, and panic surged through me. "Wait," I said, hating how desperate I sounded. "At least tell me why. Why do you hate humans so much? What did we ever do to you?"