His eyes remain focused on a point just below my gaze, pride and submission warring visibly in his posture.
The controlled warrior battling the vulnerable man beneath.
"It's no excuse for the underlying cause of the ripple between us," he continues, hands clasped tightly before him. "But it'swhat encouraged me to keep watching, until the night almost two weeks ago."
The reference to my near-death experience sends a phantom chill across my skin, memories of frozen ground and scorpion venom burning through my veins flickering at the edges of my consciousness.
"I apologize for that first," he says, voice dropping lower. "I can bear the consequences when the time is right and beneficial to our situation."
I find myself nodding, a simple acknowledgment without verbal forgiveness. Something in his expression shifts at this minimal response—relief perhaps, that I'm at least willing to listen rather than dismissing him outright.
"My attendance at Leighton all those years had shifted my aspect on love," Warren continues, his gaze now focused on some middle distance, as if seeing into memories long buried. "I never really knew what love was or how to properly express it."
The admission carries unexpected vulnerability from a man who has always presented himself as a fortress, unbreakable and impenetrable.
My Kings remain silent, but I sense their collective attention sharpening at this rare glimpse into Warren's inner world.
"Iris, as what you guys would deem a Ruthless Maiden back then, had helped me experience it..." His voice catches slightly on her name, the only break in his otherwise controlled delivery. "Just a glimpse, but after she perished, I was haunted by her presence."
The name resonates through the room like a struck bell, carrying echoes of a history I've only heard in fragments.
Iris — the woman whose memory created the first fracture between us, whose ghost stood between Warren and me from the beginning.
"Becoming a Ruthless King wasn't my original ambition," he admits, shifting slightly as if the confession physically pains him. "I was security detail, assigned to protect the university's elite. Theo was the one destined for ascension, with his family connections and natural aptitude for the games Leighton plays."
This revelation catches me off guard—not just the information itself, but Warren's willingness to share it so openly.
To expose pieces of himself he's kept carefully guarded until now.
"Theo and I were...close," he continues, choosing his words with evident care. "Different in temperament but aligned in ambition. We understood each other in ways others couldn't. When he selected Iris as his Ruthless Maiden, it seemed natural that I would be incorporated into their inner circle as both security and confidant."
His gaze drops to his hands, watching as his fingers flex and release in rhythmic tension.
"Iris was...extraordinary. Brilliant, fearless, utterly devoted to breaking the systems that attempted to contain her. She saw beyond the superficial hierarchies, recognized patterns others missed, questioned traditions everyone else accepted blindly."
The description makes something twist uncomfortably in my chest. Because I can hear the reverence in his voice, yes, but I can also recognize traits that might remind him of me.
The uncomfortable parallel between his lost Maiden and his current Queen emerges with painful clarity.
"She convinced Theo that I belonged among their Kings as an equal partner who could help with their rise in their ascension, even if I didn’t have the typical advantages and wealth one would classify would deem me worthy of the title Ruthless King," Warren continues, unaware of my internal discomfort. "Said I brought balance to their dynamic, grounding that neither of them naturally possessed."
“Was this was against tradition?" Ares decides to ask and observes, the statement carrying no judgment, merely confirmation.
Warren nods once, sharp and precise.
"Everything Iris did challenged tradition. She believed the three-king structure was artificially limiting, designed to concentrate power rather than optimize effectiveness." His lips curve into something approaching a smile, though it carries more sorrow than humor. "Sound familiar?"
The question hangs in the air, highlighting the uncomfortable parallel between Iris's vision and my own unconventional court of six Kings.
The similarity cannot be coincidental, making me wonder how much Warren's support of my expanded structure was influenced by memories of his former Maiden's ambitions.
"What happened to her?" Ren asks, voice uncharacteristically gentle. The question we've all wondered but none have previously dared to voice directly.
Warren's posture stiffens, shoulders squaring as if bracing against physical impact.
"Official reports claim she succumbed to a rare heart condition, undiagnosed until autopsy." His voice carries a bitter edge that makes it clear how little faith he places in this explanation. "Convenient timing, given that she'd just begun gathering evidence of systematic experimentation occurring on campus. Students falling mysteriously ill, symptoms varying by social group and academic concentration."
The revelation lands like a physical blow, connecting past tragedies to our present circumstances with terrifying clarity.
