Page 10 of Warlord’s Plaything
10
XYRON
T he war room of House Herox is built like a fortress within a fortress—thick stone walls, high ceilings, carved reliefs of past victories painted in shadow and silver.
I stand at the head of the obsidian table, the council gathered before me.
They’re restless. The aura of tension is thick.
Old men, high generals, bureaucrats with too much power and not enough spine, shifting in their silks, sipping aged wine and pretending they aren’t discussing how best to kill a woman who doesn’t know her place.
I say nothing as they speak.
Let them dig their own fucking graves.
"The slaves whisper more than usual."
Councilor Valis sneers, drumming his fingers against the table. "They think themselves emboldened."
"They are emboldened," another snaps. "We know who to blame for that."
The room shifts, attention dragging toward me.
I lean back in my chair, lazily stretching my fingers against the cool stone armrest.
"Say what you mean," I murmur.
Councilor Dathis stiffens, throat working around words he doesn’t want to choke on.
"The human," he grits out. "The gladiator. She incites them. Encourages them to think they are…more than they are."
More than cattle for the arena.
More than things to be used and discarded.
They don’t say it, but I hear the fear laced beneath their words.
It isn’t just that she fights.
It’s that she won’t stop fucking surviving.
I smile. "And?"
The room stills.
Councilor Valis glares. "You’ve let her run wild, Lord Xyron. The nobles are watching. You protected her once. If you refuse to discipline her again?—"
"Discipline," I repeat, rolling the word over my tongue like the taste of blood.
"Yes," Dathis says, voice sharp. "If you cannot— will not —control her, perhaps it is time for someone else to step in."
Ah.
There it is.
The real game.
The real fucking threat.
The council has been waiting for a reason to cut my throat open.
And Hira?
She’s the perfect fucking excuse.
I tap my fingers against the armrest, considering.
A single move, a single shift, could change everything.
Could tip the balance in ways they don’t expect.
"You think I don’t have control?" My voice is low, slow, lethal.
I rise, letting the air tighten around me, letting the room shrink beneath my presence.
They don’t dare look away.
"I own that woman," I murmur.
The words are deliberate.
Poison and honey in the same fucking breath.
The councilors stiffen, unsure, suspicious.
"If I allow her defiance, it is I enjoy watching her realize how hopeless it is."
I round the table, slow, dangerous.
"If I let her whisper, it is because I like watching her delude herself into thinking she has a chance."
I pause behind Valis, pressing a hand against his chair.
"And when I finally bring her to her knees…"
I lean down, lips just a breath from his ear.
"She will never rise again."
There’s only one way this ends.
Only one way it’s ever ended.
With one of us breaking.
And neither of us are willing to be the first.