Page 82 of Warlord's Plaything

Kaelith’s eyes narrow just slightly.

Valis stiffens.

And I know.

I fucking know.

I just hit something raw.

"You are reckless,"Kaelith finally says, his voice smooth, even."And recklessness breeds weakness."

"So you wish to replace me?"

His smirk deepens.

"Not yet."

A movement at the far end of the chamber catches my attention.

A figure stepping into the light.

Old. Regal. Fucking dangerous.

My father.

Xiva.

For a moment, the room goes still.

Even now—even of old age—Xiva is a force that commands silence.

His steps are measured, unhurried.

But I see it.

The way his fingers twitch just slightly.

The way his jaw tenses.

The way his movements aren’t as sharp as they should be.

"What is this?"his voice is quiet, but it does not need volume to carry weight.

Kaelith smiles, too smooth, too well-practiced.

"Merely a discussion, my Lord."

"A discussion about my son?"

"A discussion about House Herox,"Valis corrects.

Xiva’s gaze sharpens.

And for a second, just a fucking second, I think he might actually gut them all where they sit.

I wish he would.

But he doesn’t.

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