[Silthara Palace—Malika's Office —Continuation]
The word kill did not echo; it hung.
Suspended between fang and feather, between instinct and reason, between what had always been true and what had just been revealed. Lady Arinaya stood rigid, dagger bared, her breath slow and controlled. Her eyes never left Iru—not for a blink. The serpent in her blood had not forgotten ancient skies filled with talons.
Iru did not move; he did not defend himself; he did not plead. He simply knelt—back straight, chin lifted just enough to meet Levin's gaze—waiting.
Levin felt the weight of that stillness more sharply than any blade.
"Kill him," Arinaya repeated, quieter now, more dangerous. "Before the wards decide for us, before instinct does."
Levin did not answer her; he stepped forward instead.
