Page 83 of Warlord's Plaything

He still plays by the old rules.

He still thinks this court can be controlled.

He is wrong.

"I grow tired of these games,"Xiva finally says, voice laced with warning."My son will answer to me. Not to you."

"Of course, my Lord,"Kaelith says, bowing just slightly, just enough to feign submission.

But I see it.

The glint in his eyes.

The slow, creeping shift in power.

The first fucking real crack.

Xiva turns to me.

His eyes are fading at the edges, dulled by something I can’t quite name.

"Walk with me."

A command.

I rise.

No matter what, I am still his son.

And whatever is coming—this might be the last time we ever stand on the same side.

28

XYRON

The private training hall is silent, except for the faint hum of torches burning along the obsidian walls.

The space is overflowing—not just with heat, but with something else.

Something unspoken.

I stand in the center of the room, rolling my shoulders, testing my blade.

Xiva stands opposite me, his expression unreadable, his posture as strong as ever.

But there’s something wrong.

Something that makes the hairs at my nape stand on edge.

"You wished to discuss something?"I keep my tone even, casual, but this summons lingers.

Xiva doesn’t answer immediately.

He studies me, his eyes assessing, sharp, and takes a slow, deliberate step forward.

"You’ve lost your patience, boy."

"I didn’t realize you called me here for a lecture."

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