Page 117 of Warlord's Plaything

"There are some of us who would die before we watch the House of Herox fall to cowards like Kaelith."

Another pause.

"The only question is—are you willing to do what it takes to get him out?"

The words hit like a storm.

Varian makes a noise of protest.

"You’re actually considering this?"He scoffs, looking between me and the dark elf."A handful of loyalists won’t be enough. You’d be throwing yourself into?—"

"I don’t care. Fuck it all."

The words rip out of me before I even process it.

This is it.

The time I make my choice.

"We need a plan,"I say, my voice sharper than steel.

"Then we don’t have much time."The soldier meets my gaze.

"Tomorrow, we strike."

38

XYRON

The dungeon is silent.

Not the kind of silence that means peace—no, this is something worse.

This is the silence of the hunted.

Of the soon-to-be-dead.

The walls around me are damp, suffocating, carved from stone that has seen the slow decay of a thousand men before me.

Tomorrow, I join them.

Tomorrow, I die.

I breathe in, slow, steady. Preparing.

I will not beg.

I will not kneel.

They can strip me of my title, of my strength, of my throne.

But they will not strip me of who I am.

And yet?—

I still think of her.

I hate that she is my last thought.

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