Chapter 53
Chapter fifty-three
Maxon
The Shadoweaver’s shadows snake out like living tendrils, wrapping around me. They lift me effortlessly, dragging me closer to her in slow, deliberate movements until I’m suspended just inches away. Her black-orbed eyes fix on me, the tiny pinprick of light at their center glowing eerily.
She doesn’t speak at first. Her gaze is careful, studying, drinking me in. The inky black dress she wears clings to her body like liquid oil, shifting and undulating with an unnatural pulse. The shadows that dance around her seem darker today, heavier, their movements almost aggressive.
The way her anticipation thickens the air between us is suffocating. She wants to say something. But of course, she doesn’t rush. She never does.
“How have you been, Your Majesty?” she purrs, her voice smooth and serpentine.