Page 47 of Warlord’s Plaything

47

XYRON

E very instinct in me is on edge.

I don’t trust these walls.

I don’t trust these shadows.

I don’t trust anything anymore.

Hira is asleep after pouring out all her emotions. Maybe this is the only peace she’ll ever get from now on.

Her body had finally given out after our confrontation, after the fire between us had burned too bright and left nothing but cinders.

I let her rest.

She needs it.

Because tomorrow, everything changes.

Because tomorrow, we either survive—or we fucking die.

Suddenly, there’s a sound.

A whisper.

A breath of movement.

I am not alone.

My blade is in my hand before my brain catches up to the situation.

I turn, quick, sharp, ready to rip the spine out of whoever thinks they can sneak up on me.

And then?—

A figure steps from the shadows.

Calm. Unrushed.

Like he belongs here.

Like he was waiting for me to notice him.

Like he wants to be seen.

"Xyron."

A voice I haven’t heard in days.

A voice I haven’t trusted in years.

A voice that shouldn’t fucking be here.

Valis.

I move before he can breathe another word.

Fast.

Deadly.

My dagger presses against his throat before he has a chance to react.

"Give me one fucking reason not to open you up right now."

He doesn’t flinch.

Doesn’t wince.

Doesn’t show an ounce of fear.

His lips curl in something too calm.

"I’m the only one who can save you from the mess you’re in."

I press the blade harder.

"You’re the one who put me in this fucking mess."

A low chuckle.

"Am I?" Valis’s voice is smooth, always too smooth, like a dagger wrapped in silk. "Or have you just been too blind to see what’s really happening?"

"You sided with Kaelith."

"Did I?"

The question twists something in my gut.

No hesitation.

No denial.

But no fucking confession either.

"You betrayed my father."

Finally, he reacts.

His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Your father was betrayed long before the poison ever touched his lips."

Something in my chest tightens.

I don’t loosen my grip.

I don’t let the blade waver.

But I hesitate.

And Valis sees it.

His smirk fades.

His voice lowers.

"I was never Kaelith’s."

"Bullshit."

"I was always Xiva’s."

This was unexpected.

Unbelievable.

Valis has been against me at every turn.

Every time I tried to move up in power, he was there to cut me down. Every time I thought I had an advantage, he was the one who threw me into the dirt.

And now?—

Now he’s saying he was never against me.

That he was never against my father.

That he was waiting.

For this.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don’t expect anything from you."

His voice is steady. Firm. Unshaken.

"But your father did."

He reaches into his coat.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

I keep the blade pressed to his throat, waiting, watching.

And then?—

He pulls out a folded parchment.

A wax seal.

A symbol I know like the back of my own fucking hand.

Xiva’s personal insignia.

I take it before I can think.

I break the seal.

I unfold the paper.

"My son, if you are reading this, then I am dead.

If I am dead, then I have failed you.

But I have not left you without a path."

I can’t breathe.

The words are clear, sharp, written in my father’s hand.

Valis stands there, silent, waiting.

Waiting for me to see the truth.

And I do.

"Kaelith will think he has won. The orcs will think they have control. But they have forgotten that power is not taken—it is earned. And theirs is about to be ripped from their hands.

The alliance between Kaelith and the orcs is built on fragile ground. One push, and it will collapse.

I leave you the proof. Valis knows what to do.

I leave you the truth. It will break them apart.

And I leave you with one command.

Burn them for what they have done."

My hands shake. I clutch the letter so tight the parchment crumbles at the edges.

The proof.

The weakness.

The one move that could turn the tide.

And my father knew.

He always knew

"Xyron."

Valis’s voice breaks through the haze.

"Are you ready to finish what your father started?"