"He is not for trade," Evangeline snapped, her voice a whip-crack that should have ended the conversation.
"Mmm..." Jericho hummed, her eyes never leaving Silver. She studied him with a clinical, predatory hunger, her gaze crawling over his features like a spider over silk. "Everything is for trade in this world, my dear Eva. You, of all people, should know that every crown has a price, and every soul has a weight."
"Jericho," Evangeline growled, her posture stiffening into a blade of pure ice. "I have made my position clear."
Silver, ever the creature of chaos, didn't seem bothered by being discussed like a piece of livestock. Instead, a playful, maddening smirk pulled at his lips. He leaned toward Evangeline, his movements fluid and far too familiar for the Queen's liking.
"Am I truly that precious to you, My Lady?" he purred, his voice dripping with a mock-sincerity that bordered on insult. "I had no idea I—"
