Ren turned to Syris, her expression concerned.
"Syris," she asked gently. "Can you stand?"
Syris narrowed his eyes. The mere suggestion that he—the Snake King, the ruler of the Swamp—was so badly wounded he couldn't stand, was insulting.
He stood up immediately.
"I am fine," Syris declared, standing tall and regal.
Internally, his body screamed. His ribs protested, his skin pulled tight over his healing wounds, and his head throbbed. But he kept his face a mask of cool, unbothered elegance. He would rather swallow a cactus than look weak in front of the Tiger.
"Good," Ren nodded, buying the act.
She turned to Viper.
"Viper," Ren commanded. "Drag the elk outside. We need space to butcher it. Try not to bruise the meat."
"Okay!" Viper hissed, pulling with all his might.
Ren turned back to her husbands.
