"Yes, my prince. I saw it myself. With my very own two eyes. She was moving fast. No hesitation."
"And for someone who's supposedly retired, she looked like she was two seconds away from unsheathing a sword and cutting her way through heaven."
BAM!
Maximus slammed his palm down on the table, the wood rattling like it had just been slapped by a thunder god.
Then he threw his head back and laughed—loud, deep, victorious.
"Haaa ha ha! So we were right."
"The little heroes have been lying. Hiding things from the king. And from that porcelain-doll of a queen with her perfectly plucked eyebrows."
He stepped back from the table, rising like a mountain with a heartbeat.
Maximus was built like a sculptor had gotten drunk on wine and testosterone.
Towering. Broad.
Blessed by gods both divine and indecent—with a mind just sharp enough to be dangerous.
"We get proof, Father. Real proof. Not hearsay. Not shadow games. Actual, undeniable evidence."
