The pontificator cast a disdainful look in Dewdrop’s direction. “I see you haven’t taught your vassal his place.”
Tate sent him a look that could have flayed skin from bone. “I have. It’s right beside me.”
The same went for Night. The two might infuriate her on occasion, drive her up the wall because of their actions, but she’d never consider abandoning them. Her success was their success and vice versa. They shared in each other’s rise and fall.
To claim otherwise belittled what they had. A partnership more important than anything else. Far more so than these people with their narrow minds and distorted world views.
“That man’s a traitor. He tried to usurp the emperor’s position and planned a failed uprising. What is he doing here?” George interrupted, staring at Tyne like she’d seen a Creator incarnate. It was more than just fear. It was terror. She watched Tyne as if he was her own personal demon sent to throw her into the abyss—but not before torturing her beforehand.
“Ah, my cute little junior. I’ve been wondering where you got to,” Tyne said with a smile.
The atmosphere in the room changed at Tyne’s arrival. Those aristocrats who’d so easily advocated for the extermination of the sleepers cowered, sinking in on themselves as if doing so would cause Tyne to not notice them.
The only ones who seemed unsurprised were Thaddeus, the Lord Provost, and the Obsidian Lord. Tala and the Shodun held themselves stiffly as they watched Tyne prowl across the floor toward the table.
They didn’t have the same fear as the humans, but they weren’t relaxed either. Tate saw more than one hand hovering over hidden weapons on the Kairi’s side while the Silva flexed their fingers as their claws slid out as if preparing for battle.
“He’s not supposed to be here. What is the devil doing out of his cage?” someone hissed softly.
Although the speaker probably intended their question to go unnoticed, they underestimated the powerful senses of most of those present. Not only Tate but many others caught the lamentation—including Tyne.
The dragon-ridden’s smile was bright and oddly sweet as he danced toward the speaker, his movements holding the same grace and power as when he was fighting the sentinels. He stopped in front of the man and studied him with an inquisitive gaze.
The man held still, not daring to move as his breaths escaped him in fear ridden puffs.
Still, Tyne was gentle as he lifted a hand and rubbed the other’s face. Pain flared in the man’s expression as Tyne’s grip tightened, his knuckles whitening.
A whimper escaped from the man as Tyne’s expression remained disturbingly kind.
“It eludes me why you give them free rein.” Tyne didn’t look away from his victim as the rest of those present looked on with alarm. “Make them fear you and they won’t dare to question you ever again. This has always been our family’s way.”
Thaddeus rose from his chair, crossing the floor and setting a hand on Tyne’s. “That’s enough.”
Tyne’s grip relaxed and the man stumbled backward. He tripped, falling to the ground. Tyne didn’t move, unruffled as his victim scrambled away from him.
It didn’t bother him to be feared nor did he show any regard for human life. The flat, dead look behind his eyes reminded Tate of the paintings she’d seen once of the Saviors.
In that painting, Tate hadn’t seen the heroes and Saviors worshiped by so many. She’d seen killers. Their expressions cold and unforgiving. Warmth and humanity cut away to enable them to make the hard decisions. Decisions that weren’t kind or pretty.
If the world truly knew the people in that painting and the things they’d done to ensure a future, Tate didn’t think the population would be so quick to venerate and idolize them.
Tyne had that same expression. The kind that sent chills down your back as your more primitive self recognized the predator in front of you.
To him, the person at his feet wasn’t real. They were nothing more than a means to an end. A toy there for his manipulation.
Be wary of him. He’s extremely dangerous,Ilith warned.
Very dangerous. It made Tate’s scalp tingle when Tyne’s gaze met hers. His expression shuttered as if that cold entity he’d shown was simply a mirage.
When he smiled, it was like flowers bloomed around him. “Little brother, you’re still the same.”
“Crazy-pants is directly related to the emperor?” Dewdrop looked back at Ryu with a disgruntled expression. “No wonder you wouldn’t let us kill him.”
Those listening flinched at Dewdrop’s careless words, Tyne’s reaction to the other man’s statement—one much less insulting than Dewdrop’s—fresh in their mind.
“Ryu?” Tate asked softly.
Ryu’s jaw flexed. “He is Thaddeus’s much older brother.”
