Page 65 of Warlord's Plaything
"The gladiators,"Valis presses, tapping a gloved hand against the armrest."The ones who led the rebellion. They should be dead."
"Yet they aren’t,"Kaelith muses, tilting his head."Curious, isn’t it?"
I smirk.
"I don’t recall needing permission to keep prisoners."
Kaelith smiles back.
It’s the kind of smile you give a man right before you slit his throat.
"You misunderstand, Xyron."
His voice is calm, sharp, fucking deadly.
"This is not a request. It’s a warning."
Valis leans forward, his eyes gleaming.
"Rebellion is a disease, warlord. One does not let it fester. One cuts it out at the root."
"You think I don’t know about it?"
"Then why are they still breathing?"
I glance around the room.
At the watching eyes, the careful tension.
They think they’re closing in on me.
That they can force my hand.
They forget. I do not bow. I do not break.
I fucking rule.
"I own their leader."
A ripple moves through the council.
Whispers. A flicker of uncertainty.
Kaelith watches me too carefully.
"You mean the human?"he asks, voice smooth.
"Not just any human."
I lean forward, let my voice drop lower.
"The one who almost took your House down with nothing but stolen steel and rage."
I let them remember.
How close she came.
How much damage she did.
