Two Eyes Cenote Rattlesnake

No one else will lay a hand on you.

He did not care about being hit, stabbed, or bound; the vile beast knew he had been let off easily—Machiavelli would have seized the tongue of anyone who had dared to speak to him in the manner he had the red mazoi. But that, was too much. The shattered-glass eyes snapped open.

She mocked him further still! His bitter laughter, biting and sardonic, reverberated off the unforgiving stone walls. Want me in good condition for Herod's arrival, do you? His voice dripped with venom as he forced his thin body to a shaky, swaying stand, glaring at the woman with a ferocious intensity.

Is that it? You need your little circus freak in tip-top shape for preforming, do you? Are you having a good time? Having families and children paraded in to gawk at me? Then coming down here to pretend to show me mercy? the dog spat, sarcasm thick in his voice, his head cocked to one side. Guess what? I'm NOT interested.

Let’s not kid ourselves— you won't fool me again, Eset. You’re just keeping me breathing so you can serve me up to him on a silver platter, he growled, his tail lashing furiously. And after promising me that you would not throw me to the crows!

His laughter erupted once more, wild and sour. I would have killed for you, Eset. I would have spared for you, he declared, his venomous eyes locking onto hers. I swore my loyalty to you. When I give my word it means something, Machiavelli snarled. But you? Why should I believe you now when your word led me to ROT in prison on nonsense charges?

His voice rose in pitch, tinged with a mad edge. You're scared for the families here in Muat-riya. You're afraid I'm going to turn on you. Ha! He met her gaze squarely, his eyes burning with a fierce, unsettling light. I think we both know that the only one you need to be frightened of, darling, is yourself.

I at least have the decency to be truthful about my nature. You think I didn’t catch you in the grove? Didn’t see that flicker of fear in your eyes? Not fear of me, my lady—oh no, he chuckled, fear that comes from doubt in oneself.

He took a step closer, his breath hot and ragged, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. When Muat-Riya crumbles and falls into dust, it will not be because of me, it will not be because of Herod. Oh no, it will be by your own hand. You want me gone because I’m the mirror reflecting your darkest self.

So go back to your pyrite throne, Hebsut. Your gilded words mean nothing to me.

Machiavelli's words hung in the air, heavy and laden with the weight of his fury and betrayal. His chest heaved with the effort of his tirade, his body trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and rage. He hoped that would be enough to distract her from the unmistakable scent of terror that poured off of him in waves.