Page 53 of Craving His Venom

My voice cracks at the final word. The idea of never returning to the place I built, never holding my child in my estate, tears at me. But if it spares them from the council’s wrath, I’ll pay that cost.

Crick hesitates, reaching out. “And what about you? Where will you go?”

A hollow laugh escapes me. “Anywhere that welcomes a disgraced warlord. Perhaps I’ll dwell in the frontier lands, forging a new life with the exiles and wanderers. It hardly matters.” I press a hand over the scar near my ribs, the legacy ofbetrayal from my betrothed, now overshadowed by the betrayal of my entire race.

He sets his jaw, wanting to protest, but seems at a loss. “I’ll follow you if you need me,” he finally says. “I owe you that much.”

The loyalty in his voice stings, a reminder that I still have a friend, but it doesn’t lessen the weight of sorrow. “Thank you,” I murmur, not meeting his eyes. “But first, let’s get out of here. I can’t stand another moment in this den of hypocrites.”

With that, we leave the capital’s courtyard, descending marble steps that echo with each beat of my tail. My mind remains drowned in regrets. I picture Mira, presumably waiting for some sign that I’ve prevailed. How can I face her with news that I’ve bartered away our future in Nagaland for a fragile promise of safety? We can’t remain in the estate. Once the council’s edict is enforced, it no longer belongs to me. And if she reenters these lands, they might seize her or the child.

We mount a small carriage at the city gates. The driver snaps the reins, and we depart under the watchful eyes of curious onlookers. I stare at the passing spires and magnificent arches, everything I once believed shaped the heart of naga civilization. Now I see them for the illusions they are. The high seat fosters cruelty hidden behind grandeur.

The road leading away from the capital is lined with thick-barked trees, red vines tangling across twisted branches. The sun sets behind us, painting the sky in a bruised palette of purples and golds. I slump in the carriage, feeling each rattle of the wheels as an echo of my pounding heart. In a matter of hours, I lost everything I'd spent a lifetime forging. Except Mira. She’s outside the council’s reach for now. But I can’t see how we’ll remain together if stepping into Nagaland again spells certain doom.

A day passes in bleak silence as we journey back toward my estate. I barely eat or speak, ignoring Crick’s attempts at conversation. My thoughts revolve around how to tell Mira, how to break the news that our child can never set foot in my homeland, that I must vanish into exile or risk their wrath all over again.

We arrive late afternoon, the estate’s imposing walls looming in the distance. The gate opens without fuss, but I sense the staff’s tension as we pass. Word of the council’s edict must have preceded me. A hush clings to every corridor, fear and pity woven into each sideways glance.

I dismount in the courtyard, tail dragging behind me as I march to the main hall. My chest aches with an emptiness so profound I can barely breathe. Scenes flash in my mind: the day I first brought Mira here, how I watched her from the shadows, enthralled by her quiet grace. Now, I face the humiliating truth that I must vacate my own territory within a fortnight. The staff, the fields, the hidden garden—none of it is mine anymore.

Crick shadows me, uncertain. We reach the corridor leading to Mira’s room, but I pause. A wave of anguish grips me, forcing me to lean against the wall. My tail curls in a despairing coil, as though trying to hold me upright. I’ve never felt so powerless.

“Vahziryn,” Crick says gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. “She’ll want to know you returned.”

I nod, swallowing a knot of emotion. “Yes.” Summoning what remains of my composure, I move forward, pushing the door open with a trembling hand.

Inside, she stands near a small table, wearing a plain tunic that highlights her slight figure. Her dark hair is pinned with the jade comb I gave her long ago, the single ornament that reminds me of simpler days. The moment she sees me, her face floods with relief, swiftly replaced by alarm at my expression.

“Vahziryn,” she whispers, stepping closer. “You’re back. Are you?—?”

I can’t speak for a moment. My tail slides across the floor, scraping gently. “The council demanded everything,” I manage, voice hoarse. “My domain, my warlord title. I’m banished from these lands within fourteen days.” It hurts to voice the final blow. “You— you and our child can’t stay here either. If you do, the council reserves the right to seize you.”

Her eyes brim with tears, heartbreak etched in every line of her face. “So they gave you no mercy.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “None. If we remain, they’ll come with official sanction. They can crush us.” My gaze lingers on her belly. A fierce longing and despair churn like a tempest inside me. “I’m so sorry. I tried?—”

She presses a shaking hand to my chest, tears sliding down her cheeks. “You gave up everything for me.” Her voice trembles, a torrent of sorrow. “That’s not your fault. The council is vile.”

I dip my head, tail moving around her in an instinctive show of comfort. “We have to leave this place. My staff can decide whether to remain under new overlords or accompany me into exile. But the estate itself is lost.”

She swallows hard, leaning against me. “Then we go together, right?” She searches my face with fragile hope. “We’ll find a new land, raise our child free from their tyranny.”

My breath hitches at the magnitude of that dream. “It’s all we can do,” I whisper, voice husky. “But know it won’t be easy. I’m a warlord turned fugitive. We might face scorn in other lands, too.”

She grips my forearm. “Better than living in fear of the council. We stand a chance out there, if we stand together.”

Tears prick my eyes, a rare show of vulnerability I can’t hide. I cup her cheek, letting the weight of my heartbreak slip into thattouch. “Yes,” I say, voice unsteady. “We face a dark road. But I’ll never let them harm you or our child.”

She slips into my arms, cheek to my chest, and we stay wrapped in each other in the hush of her room. The realization that we must flee, leaving behind every foundation, crushes me. But I cling to the single truth that matters: as long as we remain united, hope survives.

Night falls outside, the estate’s corridors hushed with dread. Tomorrow, I’ll gather my loyal staff, inform them of the council’s decree. Some may follow me into the unknown, others might bow to the new regime. I glance at Mira’s pale face, haunted yet determined. We’ve lost a home, but we still have each other. The council can’t strip me of that bond, not without shedding my last drop of blood.

My tail curls around her waist, anchoring us in the midst of ruin. Her trembling slows as she matches my breathing. We stand, hearts pounding, enveloped by the reality of our new destiny. The future is a labyrinth of potential dangers, but we’ll walk it side by side.

A single flame in the room’s lantern flickers, reflecting in her eyes. The tension eases just enough for us to share a fleeting sense of solace, even in the face of devastation. I tilt my head, pressing my mouth gently to her temple. She exhales shakily, arms winding around my waist.

“I have you,” I whisper, voice thick with emotion. “No matter where we go.”

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