Page 65 of Warlord's Plaything

"The gladiators,"Valis presses, tapping a gloved hand against the armrest."The ones who led the rebellion. They should be dead."

"Yet they aren’t,"Kaelith muses, tilting his head."Curious, isn’t it?"

I smirk.

"I don’t recall needing permission to keep prisoners."

Kaelith smiles back.

It’s the kind of smile you give a man right before you slit his throat.

"You misunderstand, Xyron."

His voice is calm, sharp, fucking deadly.

"This is not a request. It’s a warning."

Valis leans forward, his eyes gleaming.

"Rebellion is a disease, warlord. One does not let it fester. One cuts it out at the root."

"You think I don’t know about it?"

"Then why are they still breathing?"

I glance around the room.

At the watching eyes, the careful tension.

They think they’re closing in on me.

That they can force my hand.

They forget. I do not bow. I do not break.

I fucking rule.

"I own their leader."

A ripple moves through the council.

Whispers. A flicker of uncertainty.

Kaelith watches me too carefully.

"You mean the human?"he asks, voice smooth.

"Not just any human."

I lean forward, let my voice drop lower.

"The one who almost took your House down with nothing but stolen steel and rage."

I let them remember.

How close she came.

How much damage she did.

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