Page 81 of Savage Throne
“This is your fire,” Leo whispered. “This is where you burn away everything holding you back—fear, weakness, hesitation. And what will rise from that fire?”
“I. . .don’t know.”
“A Mountain Mistress will rise. A queen. A ruler. The kind of woman who commands the world.”
I stared at him, breathless.
He smiled then, slow and wicked, as if he could already see the flames licking at the edges of my soul. “You’ve already destroyed the old Monique. Now, all that’s left is to embrace it.”
The firelight flickered between us, casting jagged shadows on his face and mine. I hated how magnetic he was, how his words wound around me like chains.
The worst part was I was starting to believe him.
I frowned. “You’re good.”
“I am.”
Danger pulsed in the air, coiled tight and waiting to strike.
The back door creaked open.
Song entered and his gaze fell to Leo’s hands on my arms. A disapproving scowl spread across his face. “Leo, we talked about this.”
I quirked my brows.
Sighing, Leo released me and stepped back. “She needed to be consoled. I had to help her understand the deeper meaning to all of this.”
That scowl remained on Song’s face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “The heads are ready and in the bag.”
I edged away. “The heads?”
Leo nodded. “Of course. You can’t just walk in the tent and say hi. You will need aproperintroduction. Remember. It is all about the illusion which deals with visuals and props—”
“Why are we talking about heads?” I held out my hands. “Like seriously, Leo. When are we going to just calm this night down a bit?”
Leo laughed.
I didn’t.
Leo shrugged. “You’ll take the heads into the tent. The heads belong to the men you killed at the targets. These men were the true monsters of Yan’s armies. Their friends.”
“Oh my God.”
“Now the tent is only full of a small group of leaders and mainly followers. So. . .you will walk in there with the bag of monster heads, empty them out in the center of the tent, and then yell something witty.”
My face was frozen with terror.
Song rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t need to say something witty. The heads are enough.”
I stood there, heart hammering, trying to absorb what I had just heard.
Leo wanted me to walk into a tent full of killers with a bag of severed heads like some goddamn trophy and then. . .what?
Say somethingwitty?
My stomach churned and the air in the cabin grew heavy, oppressive.
Leo, however, seemed perfectly at ease, as if we were discussing something as casual as a dinner party.
