Page 49 of Warlord's Plaything

Then—the signal comes.

A sharp burst of flame from the far tunnel.

The first fire.

"Go,"I order, my voice a sharp edge.

And then we move.

Into the dark.

Into war.

17

XYRON

The fire starts before I even reach the gates.

It licks up the stone walls like a living thing, hungrily devouring the banners of House Herox, smoke curling into the air in thick black coils.

The flames are too strong, too well-placed.

This wasn’t a mistake.

This was a fucking war declaration.

And I know exactly who set the match.

"It’s them, isn’t it?"Kaelith’s voice is cold beside me, his silver hair glowing in the firelight.

I don’t answer immediately.

Instead, I watch the flickering chaos as warriors scramble to control the blaze. Shadows move just beyond the fire’s reach.

I see the flicker of bare skin, the glint of stolen steel.

They think they’re fucking clever. Moving unseen through the tunnels they dug beneath my feet. I’ve known about the tunnels for months. The gladiators have always had a way of surviving, of moving where they shouldn’t. Scraping out holes in the underground, carving pathways beneath the arena, hiding like vermin in the dark.

And I’ve let them.

Because watching a rat scurry is more entertaining than crushing it outright.

I catch sight of her through the flames.

She’s faster than the others.

More ruthless.

A blade in one hand, a torch in the other.

And fuck me—she’s beautiful in destruction.

Like she was born for it.

Something inside me tightens.

Something hungry.

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