Syris did his absolute best to look devastated. He really did.
He pulled his face into a mask of solemn concern, furrowing his brow and tilting his head at just the right angle of tragic sympathy. But inside? Inside, the Snake King was popping champagne. He was doing cartwheels. He was composing a ballad titled "The Tiger is Gone and Now She Is Mine."
He could hardly believe his luck. The feral madness had done exactly what he hoped it would do—it had driven the idiot into the wilderness to die. Fate was finally, finally on his side.
Syris hugged Ren closer, burying his chin in her hair to hide the fact that the corners of his mouth were twitching violently upward.
"Oh, Ren," Syris sighed, his voice thick with fake sorrow. "What a tragedy. What a terrible, convenient tragedy."
He patted her back, his amethyst eyes glittering with suppressed glee over her shoulder.
