Reaping The Red Heir

35. Bite Me

With a silent nod, Pierce beckoned me to the empty chair by his side. Still, with a bold display of rebellion and a playful grin tugging at my mouth, I sat next to Selene. Pierce made a sound of disapproval with his tongue.

"I'm afraid that seat simply won't do,"

Before I had a chance to respond, he rose, circling the table with the smoothness of a prowling cat. He took a stance behind my seat, his hands gripping the chair's arms as he bent forward.

"Do we have an issue, Your Highness?" I queried, feigning innocence. Continuing to provoke his power before his advisors was, by all accounts, incredibly foolish, yet my curiosity was insatiable. Moreover, today, I was in a particularly reckless mood.

Would he finally resort to murdering me? What a thrilling turn of events that would be.

"You seem to have misunderstood my invitation," he murmured over my head. "When I offer you a seat, it's not a suggestion."

"Oh?" I replied, tilting my head slightly to catch a glimpse of his expression. "It sounded like one to me."

A flicker of amusement crossed his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. The screech of wood against stone pierced the chamber as he wrenched the chair back, hauling me along with it.

Trust Pierce to transform even the mundane act of taking a seat into a performance of epic proportions.

All of the advisors and the guards recoiled at the grating shriek that reverberated off the walls—except for me, of course. I had grown rather accustomed to the symphony of discomfort he orchestrated daily. Thus, I remained seated, partially tempted to fold my arms and sulk.

The chairs' arms collided with a thud that left no space for objection, not that I had any room to breathe, let alone argue.

I maintained an impassive expression regardless of his blatant show of authority.

"Hold your allies near and your adversaries nearer," he stated simply, easing himself into his chair.

As Pierce sank into his chair, the combined aroma of lavender and sage hit my nostrils, a scented memory of the botanicals Sorelle had a fondness for gathering.

My body tensed, a visceral reaction I couldn't suppress. My glare bore into him, demanding answers without uttering a word.

He did seem oblivious to his lure, casually adjusting his cuffs as though nothing was amiss. Strangely, this only amplified my irritation.

I didn't wait for Pierce to start his monologue. My patience had worn thin, and my defiance was at an all-time high.

"These plans of yours," I began, cutting him off mid-breath, "are fundamentally flawed."

The collective intake of breath around the table was almost audible. Glares shot in my direction like daggers. Pierce leaned back, an eyebrow arching, as if challenging me to continue.

Fine. Challenge accepted.

"Regarding the conversation, I overheard prior to being so discourteously cut off—" I stopped, my neck craning in disgust as the image of Talon's hands on me invaded my mind. "The Sanguists are far too cunning to stumble blindly into such blatant snares if you were to place them on the northern pass," I continued, ignoring the cold stares. "You're underestimating their intelligence and resourcefulness."

Selene's eyes flicked to Pierce, gauging his reaction.

General Cormac let out a derisive snort. "We understand our own kind far better than you ever could, mortal. What leads you to believe you have superior knowledge?"