Page 28 of Warlord's Plaything

"The human," he grits out. "Thegladiator.She incites them. Encourages them to think they are…more than they are."

More than cattle for the arena.

More than things to be used and discarded.

They don’t say it, but I hear the fear laced beneath their words.

It isn’t just that she fights.

It’s that she won’t stop fucking surviving.

I smile. "And?"

The room stills.

Councilor Valis glares. "You’ve let her run wild, Lord Xyron. The nobles are watching. You protected her once. If you refuse to discipline her again?—"

"Discipline," I repeat, rolling the word over my tongue like the taste of blood.

"Yes," Dathis says, voice sharp. "If you cannot—will not—control her, perhaps it is time for someone else to step in."

Ah.

There it is.

The real game.

The real fucking threat.

The council has been waiting for a reason to cut my throat open.

And Hira?

She’s the perfect fucking excuse.

I tap my fingers against the armrest, considering.

A single move, a single shift, could change everything.

Could tip the balance in ways they don’t expect.

"You think I don’t have control?" My voice is low, slow, lethal.

I rise, letting the air tighten around me, letting the room shrink beneath my presence.

They don’t dare look away.

"I own that woman," I murmur.

The words are deliberate.

Poison and honey in the same fucking breath.

The councilors stiffen, unsure, suspicious.

"If I allow her defiance, it is I enjoy watching her realize how hopeless it is."

I round the table, slow, dangerous.

---