When he finally grinned, it was a cold, cruel smile that did not reach his eyes.
“As much as I appreciate the criticism,” Reagan said, his voice calm but no less menacing, “you won’t have the floor if I decide your insolence here is worthy of punishment. Do I make myself clear?”
A cold dread tightened in my chest. The tension in his voice brought back memories of a confrontation the day before, still too vivid in my mind.
“Yes, my lord,” Zephyr said, his leg starting to bounce mildly in front of the dais. “But are we supposed to accept that? Live off the estate’s charity, giving up our autonomy? Aren’t you supposed to amend the rotten land you rule?”
“Mr Zephyr, I remind you that you are addressing the Lord of...” Cerridwen’s reprimand was cut off.
“No! No!” he yelled, anger growing with each word. “You can’t dismiss us.”
He lunged then, grabbing Cerridwen and clamping an arm around her throat.
Startled gasps rippled through the chamber.
Reagan had risen from his chair, eyes blazing, followed by Barracus, who raised his hand as though to stop the battle mages. Both of them stared at the second-in-command being held in a chokehold.
“I will make my demands now, and you will listen.”
Reagan took a step forward. “Release her now. Then you and I will have the conversation you’re looking for.”
“No,” Zephyr answered, tightening his hold on Cerridwen. “I will speak here, in front of your entire audience.”
Near the entrance, a few mages slipped out quietly. Finnegan stepped in front of me, while Gwinifer signalled for the others to step back.
“There’s no need for this, Zephyr,” Cerridwen said, stumbling against his grip. “You won’t gain anything from it.”
“You see, we are desperate, my lord,” he seethed, unstable fury flashing in his eyes. “You don’t help us. The very people living on your estate. The ones you’ve endangered.”
My shoulders had gone stiff.
Reagan’s expression darkened as he descended another step. “Yes, I’m sworn to protect the estate from every threat it faces.”
A flash of lightning burst outside, flooding the chamber in stark white light, followed by a crack of thunder.
“Reagan,” Cerridwen’s calm voice cut through the tension as she raised her hands, as if she was askinghimto wait, instead of the crazed mage restraining her.
But Reagan’s gaze remained fixed.
From my vantage point, I watched as the man gripping Cerridwen stilled, his body going unnaturally rigid. The angerin his eyes changed, replaced by wide-eyed shock that left his mouth slack.
Cerridwen pulled free from his arm without a struggle. Zephyr didn’t fight back. He stood there, as if some unseen force had paralysed him.
“My lord,” he said, his voice quivering. “This is a plea for the estate. I’m your citizen.”
I watched as Zephyr’s expression twisted, a grimace barely suppressed. His arm, still up in the air, flushed crimson under the weight of the lord’s unrelenting stare. Whatever Reagan was doing to him, it wasn’t just holding him in place. It was punishment. His arm deepened to the raw, angry hue of scorched flesh, blisters forming like fragile bubbles ready to burst.
Reagan’s voice echoed, cold and furious. “I don’t tolerate threats, no matter where they come from.”
Zephyr’s arm drew a ragged gasp from him, a sound more instinctive than controlled. His curses filled the chamber, his voice cracking with sobs of agony.
Every instinct told me to close my eyes, but I kept watching, my stomach churning at the sickening sight.
Everyone watched.
Zephyr’s body sagged, his arms falling limp at his sides as his knees struck the stone floor with a dull, echoing thud.
Reagan’s voice rang out. “Take him.”
