Page 61 of Craving His Venom

Silver-Scaled Councilor steps forward, staff tapping the ground. “She lives,” he concedes, voice trembling with grudging respect. “By ancient law, if a human endures the venom challenge, she is recognized as scalebound—united in blood with her naga mate.”

Vahziryn’s tail tightens in triumph, though his face remains wary. “You see now that we are bound, not by fleeting lust, but by the deepest rite your traditions hold.”

Velna seethes, tail lashing the ground. “This is madness. She’s carrying an abomination.” But her protest lacks its previous venom. The law is older than any council decree.

Jade-Scaled Councilor inclines her head, face grim. “We must honor the old codes. The bond stands. The unborn child, by extension, is recognized under that bond.” She addresses the assembled watchers, voice echoing. “So it is decreed: the unionof Vahziryn and Mira is scalebound. Let none declare them abominations by law.”

A wave of astonished murmurs and cheers swirl in the crowd. Some hiss in displeasure, but many appear stunned or even moved by the spectacle. My pulse stutters with relief, though exhaustion drags at me. I cling to Vahziryn, tears streaming in a mixture of triumph and overwhelming fatigue.

Velna wheels on the dais, outraged. “You yield to archaic nonsense? We should?—”

Silver-Scaled Councilor raises a hand. “We cannot dispute the ancient venom rites. Let this serve as a lesson that some traditions endure. Lady Velna, you have pressed your claims, but you must abide by the result.”

She hisses, frustration twisting her features, but the dais seems resolute in honoring the spectacle we’ve just enacted. My mind reels. We might have won a reprieve, even official recognition. My limbs quake, the venom’s aftershocks still rippling.

Vahziryn lifts me carefully, tail sliding under my knees, arms supporting my back. “Don’t speak,” he murmurs. “Rest. I have you.” His voice breaks on that last word, betraying the raw emotion beneath. I lean into him, feeling his warmth as a shield against the throng’s stares.

The council calls for order, but I hardly hear them. My entire focus narrows to the fierce, silent vow in Vahziryn’s eyes as he holds me. We did it—we forced them to honor an ancient law that even their prejudice can’t override. My gaze drifts to the watchers. Some watch with rapt fascination, others appear unsettled. Talli’s face among the crowd flickers in the distance, a small, victorious smile. Crick stands near her, arms folded, relief written in every line of his stance.

At last, Silver-Scaled Councilor’s voice addresses the crowd. “This hearing ends. By venerable code, the scalebound bondstands. The nest is compelled to acknowledge it. Let it be recorded. The child is recognized under that bond as well.”

A thunder of conflicting reactions pulses through the chamber—disbelief, anger, or reluctant acceptance. The dais stands firm, ironically bound by the same archaic tradition they once scoffed. Lady Velna seethes, storming off in a swirl of fine robes. The hall begins to thin of onlookers. Some approach tentatively, as though unsure whether to congratulate or curse us. None dare act openly against us in this moment, not with the entire city having witnessed the rite.

My head lolls against Vahziryn’s shoulder, the venom’s fever still simmering in my veins. He notices my pallor, eyes flooding with worry. “Mira, we need to get you somewhere safe. Talli can tend to your aftermath. The baby—” He shakes his head, voice raw. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from such agony.”

I press a trembling hand to his cheek, mustering a faint smile. “We’re alive,” I whisper, chest aching with relief. “That’s enough.”

He tightens his hold, brushing a tender kiss to my temple. “Always enough,” he echoes softly.

17

VAHZIRYN

The council chamber is nearly empty now, the faint torchlight dancing over the grand pillars and ornate serpent carvings. Only a few scattered guards linger at their posts, whispering among themselves. Moments ago, this hall was alive with tension, brimming with the shocked faces of naga nobles as Mira survived my venom. Now, the hush is profound, reverberating in the arches above like the final echo of a once-thunderous storm.

I stand at the center of the marbled floor, tail coiled beneath me in a gesture of repressed energy. The air feels heavy, and my heart pounds with the realization that the council—those ancient gatekeepers of tradition—has no choice but to acknowledge Mira’s scalebound status. She overcame the venom challenge in front of everyone, proving our bond is no fleeting scandal but hallowed by the oldest laws.

Mira sways beside me, her face pale, still bearing the aftershocks of the fever that nearly consumed her life. Her hair clings to her damp cheeks in stray curls, and her breathing remains shallow, though her eyes shine with a fierce light. She’s alive. That singular truth keeps me anchored as I reach for her.My scaled arms slip around her waist, lending support. My tail shifts to steady her.

I brush a trembling hand over her cheek, relief flooding me. “Steady,” I whisper. “You’re sure you can stand?”

She nods, though I feel her muscles tense from the effort. “I can,” she manages in a thin but resolute voice. “I won’t collapse again. Not when—” She draws a breath, meeting my gaze. Her eyes reflect a swirl of triumph and exhaustion. “We’ve won.”

The word crackles in my mind. Won. It feels too monumental to fully absorb. We forced the council’s hand, shattered their condemnation. The half-circle of seats stands deserted, the echoes of their grudging acceptance still swirling around us. If the law is to be upheld—and the council thrives on law—then our bond stands beyond question.

A scuff of steps disrupts my thoughts. Silver-Scaled Councilor steps forward, face etched in a mixture of reluctance and what might be respect. A handful of watchers gather behind him—lesser officials, curious onlookers, perhaps a guard or two. Their eyes flick between me and Mira with open wariness.

Silver-Scaled Councilor clears his throat. “Vahziryn,” he intones, voice measured. “You and the human Mira—are recognized as scalebound, by the ancient code. By that rite, your bond is incontestable.” He sounds as though each word costs him. “The council... will not dispute it.”

A hush follows, punctured only by the shifting of a few startled courtiers. For so long, I’ve lived under the threat of condemnation, forced to offer my entire domain as a sacrifice. But now, the law we invoked outranks even the council’s edicts. The tension in my chest unwinds fractionally. I tighten my hold on Mira, sensing the trembling in her body.

Silver-Scaled Councilor glances away, perhaps unwilling to meet our eyes. “You remain exiled from formal leadership,” headds stiffly, “given your prior choices. But we cannot brand your mate or your child as heresy. The old law compels acceptance.”

Velna lingers behind him, posture rigid, green scales glinting with frustration. She opens her mouth as if to protest, but the councilor cuts her off with a curt gesture. I see fury simmer in her eyes. Let her rage. We survived her schemes.

A flicker of movement catches my gaze—Crick and Talli stand near a shadowy column, relief plain on their faces. Crick’s arms fold over his chest in his typical stance, while Talli grips her staff, her tattoos glinting with faint colors in the torchlight. They must have snuck into the aftermath, ensuring we’re not alone for the final declaration.

I incline my head in acknowledgment of the councilor’s pronouncement, voice low with years of pent-up defiance. “Then my mate stands with me, recognized by the laws you claim to uphold.” My tail flicks once, a subtle sign of my lingering tension. “That is enough.”

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