Chapter 51: The Coldest Shoulder

“I need you to warm my bed.”

The words hung in the cold, damp air of the dungeon like a lifeline.

Ren let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her heart soared. She scrambled off the wooden bench, clutching the bars, ready to jump into his arms the second the gate opened.

’Oh thank god,’ she thought, her knees shaking with relief. ’He forgave me. Or at least, he’s too cold to stay mad. I’m going back to the Nest!’

“Syris,” she breathed, a smile tugging at her frozen lips. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me—”

Syris moved.

He didn’t step toward Ren’s cell. He took one smooth, deliberate step to the left.

He inserted the heavy iron key into the lock of the adjacent cell.

Click.

Ren froze, her hands still gripping the rusted bars. Her smile died a slow, confused death.

The gate next to her creaked open.

Inside, Lyssa gasped. The green Snake Concubine looked stunned, her eyes wide as saucers. She stood up slowly, looking from the open door to the king, unable to believe her luck.

“My… King?” Lyssa whispered.

“Why are you standing there?” Syris asked, his voice devoid of emotion. He stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Ren. “Do your duty, First Concubine. The Nest is cold. And I require a heat source.”

Ren felt like she had been punched in the gut.

’What?’

Lyssa’s shock vanished instantly, replaced by a grin so wide and predatory it looked like it might split her face. She slithered out of the cell, practically vibrating with glee.

“Yes, King,” Lyssa purred, throwing herself against him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. She looked back at Ren over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with triumphant malice. “I will warm you. I will warm you so well you will forget you ever touched a mammal.”

Syris didn’t hug her back. He stood there, stiff and unreadable, his face a beautiful, blank mask.

“Come,” Syris said flatly.

He turned to leave. But as he turned, he paused directly in front of Ren’s cell.

He didn’t look at her. He didn’t acknowledge her presence.

But with a subtle shrug of his shoulders, the heavy, fur-lined velvet cloak he was wearing slipped off. It pooled onto the dirty stone floor, half inside Ren’s cell, half out.

He just walked away, Lyssa clinging to his arm like a second skin, their footsteps fading into the darkness.

Ren was left alone in the silence. She stood by the bars for a long time, staring at the empty corridor.

A sharp pang twisted in her chest. Bile rose in her throat, tasting bitter.

“Wow,” Ren whispered. Her voice sounded hollow.

She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Ha.”

“I’m not jealous,” she said aloud to the rats. “I am absolutely, one hundred percent, not jealous.”

She pushed away from the bars and began to pace the tiny cell. Three steps forward. Turn. Three steps back. Turn.

“Why would I be jealous?” she argued with the air. “He’s a kidnapper! He’s a reptile! He conspired with a con-artist fox to get rid of my husband! I hate him! This is… this is great! This is fantastic!”

She laughed again, a manic sound that bounced off the wet walls.

“This is exactly what I wanted! I wanted him to leave me alone! Now he has Lyssa! They deserve each other! She can peel his grapes and I can… I can focus on escaping!”

She paced faster, her bare feet slapping the stone.

“It’s going to be so much easier now,” she reasoned frantically. “Without him wrapping himself around me like a sentient vine every five seconds. I can move freely! I can breathe! I am liberated!”

She stopped. She looked down at the velvet cloak lying on the floor. It was black, lined with silver fur. It looked incredibly warm.

She glared at it.

“I don’t need your pity coat,” Ren hissed, crossing her arms and rubbing her shivering shoulders. “I don’t need your help. It’s your fault I’m in this freezer in the first place! If you hadn’t kidnapped me, I’d be home!”

She kicked the cloak.

Then she shivered so violently her teeth clacked together.

“Damn it.”

Ren groaned, defeated. She bent down and snatched the cloak off the floor.

She wrapped it around herself.

It was heavy. It was soft. And worst of all, it smelled like him. It smelled of that unique, crisp scent that was just Syris.

Ren squeezed her eyes shut, burying her nose in the fabric despite herself.

“I hate him,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I really, really hate him.”

She walked back to the wooden bench and sat down, pulling the cloak tight like a cocoon.

’One night in a dungeon and I’m losing my mind,’ she thought bitterly. ’I’m actually catching feelings for the jailer. Stockholm Syndrome is real and it sucks.’

She lay down, curling up under the king’s cloak.

But she couldn’t sleep.

Her mind was a traitor. It kept drifting up to the Nest. It conjured images of Syris and Lyssa. Were they in the bed? Was he holding her the way he held her? Was Lyssa oiling his scales? Was he using his… forked tongue?

“Men,” Ren muttered into the darkness. “They’re all the same. Two legs or no legs. The moment things get difficult, they find the nearest available replacement.”

She stared at the wall, her heart hurting in a way she refused to acknowledge.

’Kael wouldn’t do this,’ she reminded herself. ’Kael is loyal. Kael is waiting.’

But Kael was miles away, drugged and helpless. And Ren was here, wrapped in the scent of the Snake King, crying over a man who had just dumped her for a garnish.

Eventually, exhaustion won. Ren drifted into a fitful, restless sleep.

CLANG.

Ren jerked awake, gasping.

She sat up, clutching the velvet cloak to her chest, her heart racing.

Viper was standing at the cell door. He looked tired. He unlocked the gate and swung it open.

He didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked annoyed.

“Get up, Mammal,” Viper grunted, banging his spear against the bars.

Ren rubbed her eyes, trying to clear the fog of sleep. “Is it… is it execution time?”

“No,” Viper sighed, gesturing for her to come out. “Get up. The king wants his breakfast.”

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