Page 105 of Warlord's Plaything

I don’t flinch and kneeling isn’t an option.

Instead, I lift my chin, meet Kaelith’s gaze, and smirk."You always did love theatrics."

Kaelith’s lips curve, slow and knowing."And you always did love power, Xyron."He leans forward, resting his elbow against the armrest."Tell me, how does it feel to lose?"

I roll my shoulders, feeling the ache in my muscles, my restraints.

But I don’t break eye contact.

"I wouldn’t know."

Kaelith chuckles, shaking his head like I’m a fucking child."Still pretending. Still playing warlord even when your empire has crumbled."

He gestures lazily to the council surrounding him, a sea of smirking, soulless bastards.

"The evidence is clear. You murdered your father."

I don’t blink."Prove it."

His grin widens."We don’t need to. You’re already guilty."

The room erupts into quiet laughter, low murmurs of satisfaction.

They’re enjoying this.

They think this is already over.

Fools.

Kaelith gestures again, and a pair of guards drag someone forward.

I don’t recognize him. A dark elf—one of my father’s old councilmen.

The man’s face is pale, tight with fear.

"Tell them what you saw,"Kaelith orders.

The councilman swallows hard, then speaks.

"I saw Lord Xyron standing over Xiva’s body. His hands were covered in blood. The poison—"he hesitates, eyes darting toward me."—was traced back to his chambers."

A sharp, cold laugh spills from my lips."You’re not even trying, are you?"

The councilman flinches.

Kaelith tilts his head."And why would we need to?"

I shake my head, tongue running over my teeth."If you’re going to frame me, at least make it interesting."My smirk widens, sharp as a blade."Or are you afraid of making it look too real?"

The chamber hushes, tension coiling thick in the air.

Kaelith watches me, fingers drumming against the throne.

Then—he leans back, sighing."Arrogant until the end."His eyes flick to the guards."Break him."

Pain detonates through me.

A fist to the ribs, another to my jaw.

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