Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“Please don’t tell me you’re stupid and slow like your father was.”
That pisses him off. He tries shoving me, but I press the blade deeper to his throat, drawing blood.
“Just stop,” I order, digging my forearm into his chest. “Fucking stop and listen to me.”
“Why would I ever listen to you?” he spits.
“How are you going to be leader of your people if you won’t even listen? Because I’ll tell you now, the way you’re going about this won’t work. You’re not smarter than me. You never will be, so just shut the fuck up and hear me out.”
He tries to fight me off, but I notice the panic swimming in his eyes as he glares at me. Two men approach the balcony dressed in Rippie brown, and I cock a brow, daring them to take another step closer.
“Don’t.” Devlin throws a hand up at the Rippies. “Just…fuck off. I can handle this.”
I eye the two men. “You heard your monarch. Fuck off.”
They leave the balcony but remain in view from inside.
Devlin finally stops struggling, his breaths ragged. While he’s calm enough, I search his suit for more weapons. I find another dagger, knuckle weights, and a pack of blooms.
I toss it all in a pile on the floor and sigh, stepping backwards to look him over. Then I flip the dagger in my hand around to offer it to him by the hilt. He stares at it, mildly confused and hesitant, before snatching it away.
“I know the last thing you want to do is attack me,” I tell him.
“You don’t know shit about me,” he spits back.
I raise a brow. “You think I don’t know anything about you?”
He grimaces.
“You’re Devlin Benton. Eldest son of Rami Benton of Ripple Hills. Brother to sixteen people—many of whom are from different mothers because your father was a fucking sleazebag,” I toss in, causing a scowl from his end. “You love your whiskey neat, you pay double the rubies to have lakefruit imported to you, and you hate wine. You have a girlfriend named Sophine who works at a silks shop and who, I bet, is wandering around this palace right now looking for you. I’m sure she’s completely unaware that you’re bringing violence to Armistice Night.”
His jaw steels, but I see his shoulders softening. “If you know so much about me then you know I want to kill you, which makes you the fool because you handed me my dagger back.”
“That’s only because I know you won’t actually use it.”
He stares, still confused. Love of Vakeeli, he really doesn’t know anything.
I take a step closer. “Let me break this down for you. One: I could put a bullet in your head faster than you can swing that blade. Two: this is Armistice Night. You kill me, and you may as well be killing yourself. The Council doesn’t like when people break their rules, even if that person is a naïve, dim-witted monarch who can’t tell his head from his ass.”
“Fuck you!” He stands taller, nostrils flaring.
“Vakeeli’s sake.” I dig into my pocket for another bloom. I need one if I’m going to get through this damn conversation. “Are you done with your tantrum now?”
Devlin raises the tip of the dagger at me again. “I’m done when I say I’m done.”
“I was wrong about you then,” I mutter as I spark my bloom. “You are just as stupid as Rami.” I snatch the dagger away again, and he stares at me, stunned.
“How did you—”
“You do realize you’re pointing a bloody blade at me for a man who didn’t give a single fuck about you, right? I know the story, Devlin. The only reason you want to kill me is because the Rippies have been filling your head with lies and you think you have big shoes to fill, but trust me, Rami was walking these lands barefoot. There are no shoes for you to fill, which is why you are going to create your own. It’s fucking ridiculous that you can’t take a moment to think for yourself here.”
Devlin’s eyes grow wider, and I pull from my bloom again, studying him. “You’re slouching.”
“What?” he retorts.
“Monarchs don’t slouch. Stand up straight, like you carry authority.”
Devlin doesn’t do as I say straightaway. Of course not, the tyrant. He eyes me carefully, throat bobbing, before sighing and tipping his chin.
“Your threats are useless if they’re empty, Devlin. I don’t want to start a fight with you, but I will if it means protecting my territory. And believe me, Devlin, you do not want to make an enemy out of me. I’m giving you the chance to start fresh instead of dumping the sins of your father onto you.”
He holds my gaze, and I notice his fists clenching. He’s resilient, despite the disadvantage he’s in.
I can work with that.