Strax kept his gaze fixed on hers—steady, penetrating, as if he could pierce through all the layers of ice she wore as armor. The Monarch held the bluish glint in her eyes, but a tiny tremor—subtle, almost invisible—ran through her gloved fingers.
And Strax saw.
He always saw.
"I won't deceive you," he repeated, lower, his deep voice vibrating like heated metal. "But you're trying to deceive yourself."
Her expression didn't change—at least, not enough for any normal person to notice. But Strax wasn't just anyone. He had lived among monsters, read the language of predators, faced creatures whose slightest gesture betrayed deadly intentions.
The Ice Monarch was cold, calculating, impeccably composed. But not unshakable.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice impeccably controlled.
