Page 7 of Warlord’s Plaything

7

HIRA

T he heat of his touch still lingers.

The press of his fingers at my throat. The smell of him—rich, spiced, dark. The way his breath had skated over my lips, taunting, teasing, like he’d wanted to do a lot more than just test me.

I should hate him for it.

I do hate him for it.

But godsdamn me—part of me wanted him to fucking break first.

This is a game of control. A slow, dark war neither of us wants to lose.

And I’ll be damned if I let the warlord of House Herox be the one to win.

The slave pits are quiet after he leaves, but the silence isn’t comfortable. It’s taut, stretched thin like a wire about to snap.

Dagen is watching me from across the room, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line.

"What the fuck was that?"

I roll my shoulders, shaking off the lingering heat of Xyron’s touch. "I don’t know what you mean."

Dagen moves closer, steps measured, slow. "You think you can play games with him?" His jaw flexes, tense. "You’re going to get yourself fucking killed."

I tilt my head. "You think I haven’t been walking that line since the day I was thrown in this hellhole?"

His gaze flicks to my throat.

Where Xyron’s fingers had been.

Where he’d held me, not with brute force, but with something worse.

Something seductive.

"That’s different," Dagen mutters.

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. "Yeah? How?"

His nostrils flare.

"You let him get too close."

My lips curl into something sharp. "You think I had a choice?"

"You didn’t fight him."

That makes my hackles rise. "I don’t fight battles I can’t win. That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to play the fucking game."

Dagen shakes his head, jaw tight. "He’s not like the others, Hira. He won’t break easy."

I step closer, letting my voice drop to a dark whisper.

"Then I’ll break him the hard way."

The tension between us is still thick when Sella moves from the shadows.

She’s smaller, lean, all sharp bones and quiet rage. Unlike the others, she doesn’t look afraid—she looks curious.

"You ever hear the story of the last slave who thought they could rise?" she murmurs.

I glance at her, arching a brow. "You gonna tell me?"

She nods, stepping forward. "Decades ago, one of us got close. A gladiator. A human who fought too well, caught too many eyes, started whispering to the wrong people."

She pauses, watching me.

I don’t flinch.

"And?"

Sella tilts her head. "And he got bold. Thought he could win the favor of a dark elf noble. Thought he could make a difference. Thought he was safe."

Something cold trickles down my spine.

I already know how this story ends.

"He wasn’t safe," I murmur.

Sella smiles. But it’s a dead thing.

"They let him believe he had power. Let him think he was close." She leans against the almost freezing stone wall. "Then, one night, they dragged him from his chambers and flayed him alive in front of the court."

I swallow.

Fuck.

"They left his body in the pits for days," Sella continues, eyes locking onto mine like she’s daring me to argue. "A warning."

The silence stretches.

I don’t break it.

Finally, I smirk. "Good thing I’m not stupid enough to think any of us are safe."

Dagen mutters something under his breath, rubbing his temples. "You’re insane."

"Yeah," I say, stretching out my sore muscles. "But at least I’m fun."

Sella snorts.

Dagen? He looks like he wants to strangle me.

"Seriously, Hira. You think you can outplay a fucking warlord?"

I turn to him, slow, deliberate. "I think I already have."

His eyes darken. "How the fuck do you figure that?"

I take a step closer. "Did he punish me?"

Dagen’s brows knit together. "What?"

"Did he punish me?" I repeat.

Silence.

Realization flickers behind his gaze.

"No," he finally mutters.

"Exactly."

I smirk, stepping past him, heading for my cot.

"He wants to see what I’ll do next," I murmur over my shoulder. "He thinks he’s the one in control." I glance back, lips curling into something sharp. "He’s wrong."

Sella watches me, considering.

Dagen looks pissed.

But the truth is there, hanging between us.

Xyron is playing a game.

But so am I.

And when the time comes, I’ll make sure he’s the one who fucking loses.