He was begging for his life.
It didn't matter.
Everyone in the throne room knew it.
Even me.
The court stood silent along the marble walls, pale beneath the flickering torchlight. No one dared move. No one dared speak.
The man sitting on the black throne was watching.
And when he watched... people died.
I had heard the stories about him long before I ever stepped foot in this castle. I have never seen his face, but we all knew his name.
Warlord Cain.
The monster kings whispered about.
The warlord who carved his empire from blood and bone.
I used to think the stores were exaggerated.
Looking up at the throne now only seeing his boots through the bowed position his guards were forcing me into... I realized they hadn't been exaggerated enough.
"Please," the prisoner choked beside me, collapsing onto his knees. His chains rattled against the stone as he crawled forward. "My lord, I swear I didn't betray you. I would never-"
The sound of a blade sliding free cut him off.
Slow.
Deliberate.
A shiver crawled down my spine.
Lord Cain stood.
The room seemed to shrink around him as he descended the steps of the throne.
He moved like a sleek predator.
Not rushed.
Not angry.
Certain.
The way a panther moves when it already knows its prey has nowhere left to run.
His dark armor clung to a body built for war. Broad shoulders. Hard muscle. Every step quiet despite the heavy boots striking the stone floor.
He was... beautiful.
The realization made my stomach twist.
Beautiful in the same way a storm is beautiful just before it destroys everything in its path.
The man begging for mercy started shaking violently.
"My lord.... please..."
No one spoke.
No one breathed.
Lord Cain stopped in front of him.
From where I knelt among the other prisoners, I could see his face clearly now.
Cold.
Expressionless.
His eyes held no anger. No hesitation.
Only boredom.
"Do you know," he said quietly, "what I hate most about traitors?"
The prisoner shook his head desperately. Too fearful to speak, I was sure.
"Lies."
The blade flashed.
I didn't even see the strike.
One moment the man was knelt before Lord Cain and alive.
The next his head rolled across the stone floor.
Blood splattered across the stones.
A strangled sound escaped my throat before I could stop it. My eyes frozen on the head which had rolled towards me.
The dead man's eyes still wide with fear frozen on his face staring into mine.
The room froze.
Slowly...
Lord Cain turned his head.
And his eyes landed on me.
My breath caught.
Gods.
Up close he was even more terrifying than the stories had promised.
Shar jaw. Dark hair falling slightly across his forehead. Eyes so black they looked almost bottomless in the torchlight.
A monster wearing the face of a man.
And for reasons I didn't understand int he shadows of my heart...
He was staring at me like I was the most interesting thing in the room, and I didn't want him to look away.
The realization horrified me.
This was the man mothers used to frighten their children into obedience. The monster whose armies had crushed three kingdoms in less than a decade. A man who had just seperated another man's head from his body without so much as a change in expression.
And yet my pulse was racing for an entirely different reason.
I forced my eyes downward, my hands curling against the cold stone floor beneath me.
Don't look at him.
Every instinct I possessed screamed the same warning.
Don't draw attention.
Around me the other prisoners had bowed so low their foreheads nearly touched the floor. Some were quietly crying. One woman near me was whispering frantic prayers beneath her breath.
No on wanted the monster's gaze.
Except apparently the fool that I was. Because despite every ounce of sense left in my body... My eyes lifted again.
Just enough to see him.
Lord Cain was still watching me. Not the prisoners beside me.
Not the guards who lined the walls.
Me.
His expression had not changed, but something about the stillness of his gaze made my stomach tighten.
He looked curious.
As if he were studying something unexpected.
A guard stepped forward besdie him. "My lord," the man said carefully, glancinga the blood spreading across the stone floor, "the remaining prisoners from the western village await your judgment."
Village.
The word twisted my chest.
Home.
Only two nights ago the same soldiers standing in this room had marched through our streets like a storm of iron and fire.
I could still hear the screams.
Still smell the smoke.
My fingers tightened against the stone.
I shouldn't be here. None of us should. But war did not care about fairness. And Lord Cain least of all.
Anger boiled inside of me as memories washed over me. I forgot myself for a moment feeding my anger and lighting my determination.
The guard waited for orders.
Cain didn't answer.
His gaze never left me.
It made my skin prickle.
Why was he still looking at me?
There were dozens of prisoners kneeling across the hall. Farmers. Merchants. Two young boys who looked barely old enough to hold a sword.
Yet his attention had settled on me like the weight of a blade against my throat. I tried to convince myself it was because I had made a sound when the man died.
Something in his expression didn't feel like anger or even irritation.
Another slow step carried him closer.
The movement rippled through the room like shock waves.
A sane person wouldn't dare look up.
No one except me.
The guards hadn't forced my head down again.
Maybe they assumed I had already learned my lesson. Maybe they simply hadn't noticed.
My heart hammered in my chest as his boots stopped only a few feet away.
Up close the air around him flet different.
Heavy.
Like standing too close to a coming storm. The stories had called him a monster. Looking at him now, that word didn't seem entirely wrong.
But it wasn't entirely right either. Monsters were supposed to look monstrous.
Lord Cain Looked like something far more dangerous.
A man.
A powerful one.
He tilted his head allowing his dark hair to fall slightly over his eyes as he studied me in slience.
With a jolt I ralized I was still staring at him.
Still kneeling in the blood of the man he had just killed.
Still refusing to look away.
I should have been shaking like the others. I should have been begging. Instead I felt something strange curling in my chest. Not courage. Not exactly fear either. Something sharp and restless. Something that refused to bow as easily as the guards clearly expected.
For a long moment neither of us spoke. The throne room held its breath. Then he smiled.
It wasn't a warm smile. It wasn't even a cruel one. It was the smile of a man who had just discovered something interesting.
A new toy.
My stomach dropped.
Suddenly I understood. The man who ruled this castle like a god of war had not been deciding whether to kill me. He had been deciding whether to keep me.
Lord Cain finally spoke. His voice was quiet.
Calm.
Certain.
Commanding.
"Bring her to me."
The guards grabbed my arms, hauling me to my feet. My heart pounded as they dragged me toward the monster who had destroyed my home.
Toward the man I had sworn to kill.
Good.
Let him bring me closer.
It would make what came next so much easier.