"A price?" Talia echoed. The word hung in the air, followed by a laugh that didn't sound human—it was a dry, rattling sound, She sank deeper into the silk pillows, her frail frame disappearing into the shadows, but her eyes remained fixed on him. They gleamed with a calculated, ancient malice that made the air in the room turn stagnant.
"Telling you how to break it is a reward in itself, Mathias," she added, her voice dropping to a cold, razor-thin whisper. "Don't waste your breath worrying about the cost just yet. You might find the truth far more expensive than any gold I could ask for."
Mathias felt his jaw tighten until it ached. He was done with her riddles, done with the way she toyed with his sanity like a cat with a dying bird. He took a step forward, his shadow looming over her bed, heavy and suffocating.
"Speak plainly, My Lady," he said, his voice dropping into a low, jagged threat that vibrated in the hollow of his chest. "I didn't come here for a bedtime story."
