Page 23 of Warlord's Plaything

She doesn’t.

I rise slowly.

The council members immediately shut up.

I descend from my throne, taking my time. Letting the tension swell, thicken.

By the time I step into the pit, the noise fades.

Everyone is watching.

Hira doesn’t move.

She waits.

Smart.

I reach her.

Stop.

Stand over her, looking down.

She tilts her head. Smirks. "Come to kill me yourself,my lord?"

The way she says it—mocking, slow, filled with heat.

The crowd holds its breath.

They expect a blow.

A strike.

A fucking public execution.

But I do something far worse.

I bend down, slow and deliberate, until my lips brush her ear.

And I whisper?—

"Get up."

Her body shudders.

She hates that she reacts.

I see it in the way her fingers curl into fists, the way her breath catches, the way her pulse jumps.

She stands.

I watch her rise, slow and smooth, until we are face to face.

Her pupils dilate.

She’s angry.

And excited.

---