Page 138 of Warlord's Plaything

But instead?—

She’s listening.

She’s letting him speak.

And that makes me fucking sick.

"You’re outnumbered, girl,"Menias says smoothly, arms crossed over his chest.

"Your rebellion is nothing but scraps. Your people? Wiped out. Your territory? Gone. Your warlord?—"

His eyes flick to me, mocking, taunting.

"—Hanging on by a thread."

A snarl rips from my throat.

But Hira’s hand grips my wrist.

Tight. Warning.

I hate it.

I hate that she has to stop me.

I hate that I let her.

"Get to the fucking point."Her voice is ice.

Menias actually looks serious.

He turns his head, watching her.

Calculating. Weighing.

Then—

"I have an army."

The words hit like a hammer to the chest.

The room goes still.

The murmurs from our soldiers—what little we have left—die in the air.

An army.

A real one.

Not starving gladiators, not desperate runaways.

Not men who are only fighting as there is nothing left to do but die swinging.

A real fucking army.

And he is offering it.

To her.

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