Page 113 of Savage Crown

The dining room is grand, yet decayed, the kind of place that once held elegance but now reeks of something rotten beneath the surface. Massive chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling, their dim candlelight casting long, wavering shadows along the cracked marble floors.

The long wooden table is set for a feast—platters of succulent meats, gilded goblets of wine, a decadent display of excess. But beneath the scent of spiced roast and darkened fruit lingers something darker.

Blood. Old stone. The underlying filth of a kingdom built on decay.

Nhilian dines like a king, but his castle is a tomb.

A place where power thrives, and secrets fester.

And tonight, he is waiting for Rylan.

I sit in a high-backed chair beside him, my body aching, bruised but unbroken. He wanted me present. Wanted me as part of his stage.

Ugur stands behind him now, watching me with the quiet calculation of a predator. Lartina is gone. She handed me earlier… so they could play with Rylan. So they could control him.

Fuck them all.

But from my observation, Ugur is worse. He doesn’t play with cruelty for the fun of it. He doesn’t revel in suffering the way Lartina did.

No, Ugur is colder. Smarter. He does what benefits him. And right now, keeping me alive is part of his plan.

The doors swing open with a heavy, shuddering groan.

And suddenly, the air is thinner. Colder.

Rylan.

His presence is a razor through the tension, a storm coiled tight beneath his skin. His emerald eyes lock onto me first, sweeping over the bruises, the bloodstains, the iron shackles digging into my wrists.

Something inside him fractures.

He doesn’t speak.

Not yet.

He just watches. Calculating. Seething.

Nhilian chuckles from beside me, swirling his goblet of wine lazily, like this is some kind of amusement. His fingers tap against the gilded rim, his amusement curling like smoke in the air.

"You're late,"he muses."I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come."

Rylan steps forward. Not toward Nhilian.

Toward me.

A silent demand.

Let. Her. Go.

Nhilian smiles. And tightens his grip on my shoulder.

Rylan stops.

His eyes flick down to the contact. Slowly. Methodically.

Like he’s already deciding which bones to break first.

Nhilian sighs, shaking his head."Must you always be so predictable?"

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