Page 86 of Warlord's Plaything

"You’re not telling me something,"I say, voice lower now.

"And you are not listening."

Another strike.

Another clash.

A moment of stillness, our swords locked between us.

His strength is still there, but the edge of it—it’s duller.

Less like an unbreakable warlord.

More like a man holding onto something already slipping.

"What are you trying to prove?"I grit out.

His gaze doesn’t waver."That no matter what happens, you must be strong."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means,"his blade twists against mine, forcing me back a step,"that the moment you show them weakness, they will bury you in it."

I still.

Suddenly, I realize… He’s not talking about himself.

"The Council is waiting for you to fall,"he says, quieter now."And they will strike when you least expect it."

"Then I’ll kill them first."

His lips twitch—not quite a smirk, not quite approval.

"Good. But be careful, Xyron."A flicker of something in his eyes."Your greatest strength will be your greatest weakness."

I don’t understand until it’s too late.

29

HIRA

The room isn’t cold.

But I’m shivering.

Not from fear. Not from exhaustion. Something else.

Something hotter. Something worse.

The firelight flickers against the walls, casting jagged shadows across obsidian and steel. The whiff of smoke and something darker—**Xyron’s scent—**fills the space.

I barely have time to turn before the doors slam shut behind him.

A sharp, deliberate sound. A declaration.

I don’t have to look at him to know he’s seething.

His presence crackles, heavier than I’ve ever felt it.

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