Taken

Seraphine's dagger flashed through the air, aiming for Veylan's throat.

He caught her wrist mid-strike.

"Predictable," he murmured, twisting her arm until she gasped in pain. The dagger slipped from her fingers, clattering uselessly to the floor.

Seraphine kicked out, but he anticipated that too. With one swift motion, he shoved her backward. She stumbled, her back slamming against the cold stone wall.

"Still so stubborn," he mused, watching her with something too close to admiration.

The sounds of battle raged beyond the chamber doors. Kaelith was getting closer.

Seraphine lunged again. This time, Veylan didn't stop her immediately—he let her think she had the upper hand. Her fist connected with his jaw, and for a brief second, she felt the thrill of victory.

Then, he retaliated.

With ruthless efficiency, he spun her around and pinned her against the wall. His arm pressed against the back of her neck, holding her in place.

"You were never going to win this fight," he whispered.

Seraphine struggled, but he was unyielding.

Then she felt the sharp prick of a needle against her skin.

Panic surged through her veins. "No—"

Darkness rushed in before she could finish.

The last thing she heard was Veylan's voice, soft and victorious.

"Sweet dreams, Princess."