Page 103 of Warlord's Plaything

"We could use his execution as an opportunity."

My stomach turns.

"What?"

"The Council will be vulnerable. We let them bring him to the execution grounds, then we strike."

His grin is sharp, ruthless.

"We turn the warlord’s death into the beginning of our revolution."

The thought makes my skin go ice cold.

It means letting them take him to the edge of death.

It means watching him bleed.

It means gambling with something I don’t think I can fucking stomach.

I exhale slowly, flexing my hands.

"And what if he dies before we get there?"

Varian shrugs.

"Then we use his corpse as a martyr."

I snap.

Before I can think, I slam him back against the wall again, this time with a knife pressed to his throat.

His breath hitches, but he doesn’t flinch.

"You so much as breathe the words ‘his corpse’ again,"I growl,"and I will fucking gut you."

Varian chuckles.

"Now that’s interesting."

I don’t move.

Neither does he.

The silence between us is thick, tense.

But the truth is there.

Hanging.

Undeniable.

I step back, shoving the knife away.

"I’ll get him out before then."

Varian tilts his head.

"You sure you’re not in love with him?"

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