Chapter 35 · The Basement's Taste

"Kneel, Sloane. Now."

Augustus didn't even look up from his scroll. He didn't have to. The two guards had me by the arms, fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave bruises. My boots skidded on the polished marble, the screech echoing through the throne room like a gunshot.

"I'll pass on the kneeling," I said. My voice was steady, even if my legs were shaking. "Bad for the circulation. Plus, it's a bit cliché, don't you think?"

One of the guards shoved me. Hard. I stumbled, nearly hitting the floor, but caught myself. I looked up and locked eyes with Kael.

He was standing three paces behind the Regent, face like stone. Professional. Cold. But his eyes were tracing the line of my throat, watching the pulse jump in my neck. He knew I was terrified. He also knew I was lying through my teeth.

Augustus finally looked up. His eyes were ice—the kind that doesn't just chill you, it freezes your blood. He set the scroll down slowly and leaned back, fingers steepled.

"Your insolence is almost impressive," he murmured. "Almost. But insolence without power is just a suicide note written in slow motion.