The Death of a Tyrant's Concubine

CHAPTER 25 - Goddess

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【𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐕𝐎𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄】

The war table loomed before me, a grim monument to my conquest. The Fayndor continent was carved into its surface, the blackthorn wood etched with jagged ridges that mimicked the unforgiving terrain. Tiny figures, each marking an army, dotted the map. Thornmont's forces were represented by sword-like pieces of polished silver, strategically positioned throughout the empire and its provinces.

The green and black stained-glass of the domed building cast fractured light across the table, mingling with the rippling distortions caused by the waterfall cascading over the walls outside.

In my hand, I held two additional pieces — one of delicate twisting vines shaped as a beast, the other of frosted glass. They were my hidden daggers, a calculated weapon to tip the scales.

It was imperative that I find the best position for these pieces.

Yet the only position I could think of was the one Raine and I had found ourselves in when we were on this very table just a month ago.

My mind betrayed me, drawn to the memory of her storm-gray eyes blazing with fury. Her presence lingered like a ghost, a distraction I couldn't shake. It was all I had thought of on my journey to Vrostvale.

My fingers grazed the table's edge.

I had tested her mettle, forced her into a corner to prove her control over the vylnir, and in doing so uncovered more of her hatred towards me.

She truly despises me.

The thought was both irritating and intriguing. Was it for her friend's death? For her diminished rank? For my ambitions?

No, her disdain was older, predating every slight I could name.

From the moment we met, her scorn had been absolute. Not even my father had looked at me with such raw contempt — not until the day I severed his head from his shoulders.

Should I give her what she wants?

Should I become the tyrant she already sees in me?

Briarvex, slung across my back, seemed to hum with anticipation. Its whispers curled around my mind, urging me toward ruthless indulgence.

"Your Majesty, do you agree?"

The voice snapped me back to the present. I straightened, my gaze sharpening as I looked up at the war council.

The captain of my cavalry division, a veteran with greying hair, watched me expectantly.

"In regard to the unicorns we've bred," he continued. "We can field two thousand within the year. Should we march on Driftwoode with them at the forefront? Show our power?"

I turned my attention to the map. The rivers of Driftwoode were a natural fortress. Treacherous and prone to flooding in spring. I shifted the cavalry piece toward the edge of the river lands, just bellow Pineholt Province.

"We're not marching on Driftwoode to show power," I said. "We are marching to conquer."

The veteran inclined his head, and I continued.

"Any steed will be slow crossing the rivers," I pointed out. "If we march in spring like I've prepared, the floods will delay us further. Rather than sending our foot soldiers through this terrain in a rush and tiring them out for the siege, we should use them to raid the surrounding towns and cities as we take our time to advance. We'll cut off the capital's food source and feed our armies in turn."