Benjamin's POV
I lounged back in my carved chair, no throne, just timber I claimed from the rot that once passed for a palace. One boot hooked lazily over the other, I let the gilded chamber hush around me.
They sat in a ring beneath a ceiling I had rebuilt stone by stone powdered wigs, silks fresh from foreign looms, rings on fingers that had never gripped anything harder than a quill.
Pretending they had forged this land by sweat and blood, when all they did was drain it dry.
I always let them speak first. It entertains me, listening to well-fed parasites whimper about taxes when a year ago, warlords roasted their sons over open fires and pirate lords sold whole villages for barrels of salt.
A young lordling House Rulford, his father once tried to poison me, cleared his throat, voice quivering behind a thin smile.
"Lord Benjamin, with all respect… These new river tolls will ruin smaller houses.
We can't pay the merchant guild and your share."
I laughed. Soft. Sharp. Cold as steel drawn across the throat.
"'Ruin you,' Rulford? Boy, you were carcasses rotting in a ditch before I carved a road through this swamp.
Thieves camped in your keeps, pirates stripped your docks bare, and you called that noble blood."
I leaned forward, my voice the edge of a drawn blade.
"Now your boats come home with rice instead of slaves. Citizens sleep behind real walls. You think that safety grew here by the grace of your coin?"
Almont, his neck too fat for his gold chain wiped sweat from his lip.
"Lord Benjamin, none question your right to protect the rivers.
But doubling the toll so fast… some of us owe old debts to foreign crowns. Perhaps a gentler climb."
Harring, older than my oldest blade, bristled enough to cut in.
"My lord, the tax itself isn't poison. It's the rumor it sows. Outlanders say you drain their coffers to raise an army behind our backs.
They threaten to steer trade south, away from your rule."
At the far end, Lady Weyden was fragile as spun glass, but braver than most found her voice last.
"We owe you our homes, our streets.
But tighten the noose too far, my lord, and you'll break the necks that feed this city's name to distant ports. Please steady the toll. Let us breathe."
Silence. The whole hall was watching me. Wondering if I'd grin, or tear out a throat.
I did grin.
Just enough for them to remember whose hands rinsed their blood from these streets in less than a year.
I inhaled, tasting their fear in the hush. My gaze drifted over each of their careful nods.
"So. You all agree."
A murmur of assent the weak chorus of men too used to comfort. I let them have it, then gave them something older.
"Let me share a tale my mother liked to spit at me."
I walked to the window, letting my voice drift low as I stared at the moon hanging cold over the marble and silk.
"There was once a deep wood so rich with life that kings sent sons to hunt beneath its boughs.
For a time, the hunters took only what they needed: venison for feasts, pelts for warmth, antlers for their halls."
"But greed is a quiet rot.
As the hunters fattened, they forgot the shadows between the trees. Poachers crept in at dusk.
Wolves bred in the dark. Soon, no prince dared step beneath the canopy without blood on his boots."
"One day, the oldest hunter bound iron to his spear and swore an oath: 'I will cull the wolves, I will scour the poachers, I will bleed this forest if I must so that my sons may hunt here without fear."
He paused, and so did I letting the tale settle like dusk before a storm.
"I am that old hunter," I said softly. "This city is my wood. You you sit fat in warm halls because I keep the fangs from your throats.
So yes, you pay more.
You pay me not the wolves who would eat you in the dark."
I tipped my head, smile faint and razor-edged.
"Complain if you wish but understand this: I will bleed this country clean before I ever let it devour us again."
I turned with a sharp clap of my hands, the sound cutting through the hush like a benediction.
"Now. Shall we discuss the next matter?"
The door cracked open behind me.
Harring the fool always first to bark snapped, "Who dares interrupt"
I didn't bother turning yet. Her soft intake of breath told me.
I glanced back. Cassie hair a tumble of sunrise curls, silk wrap half-falling from freckled shoulders, eyes wide and guilty as a caught fawn.
My jaw flexed. Harring didn't know how close he'd come to dying for raising his voice at her.
"Oh, forgive me, my lord," she stammered, clutching a rolled parchment to her chest, eyes darting to the floor. "I didn't realize..,., I'll ."
raised a hand, slow, calm as a lion at rest.
"Easy, dove. It's fine.
We're finished here they were just leaving."
Shock cracked through the room like a dropped glass. Almont sputtered, Harring went gray.
Chairs scraped as they fumbled to stand, bow, anything to flee my temper and her lingering blush.
Cassie ducked her head, curls spilling forward.
I let my eyes linger just long enough for them all to know: mine.
A loud bang cracked through the shutters she squeaked and nearly spilled ink across my ledger.
I spun on instinct, claws pricking through my knuckles but I froze when I saw it.
A raven big as a hound, eyes like polished obsidian. Only Kingston bred monsters like that for royal messages.
I flicked my wrist at her without looking.
"Easy, dove. Don't scream. It's just a bird but not one I like seeing this far from home…"
I stepped closer, boots silent on marble. The raven stared back, unblinking, and shifted so I could see the scroll lashed tight against its flank.
"Good birdie." I unhooked the leather ties; it didn't even flinch and the moment I freed the parchment, the raven launched into the night like a shadow with wings.
I cracked the royal seal. Read the line once e twice and felt my throat burn hot.
His Majesty is dying.
Return at once.
A tremor crawled up my spine, heat blooming sharp behind my ribs.
My fist clenched tight, crushing parchment, seal, and rods into a crushed mess without thinking.
Before I could hold it back, the Arcane surged purple flames licking my skin, a rolling pressure that stole the air from the room.
Shadows trembled, glass quivered in its frames, and violet wisps flickered off my shoulders, twisting through the darkness like smoke set ablaze by lightning.
She screamed my name, tearing through the crackling air.
I spun walls split, beams cracked, glass shattered as the surge ripped the room apart.
When the chaos settled, I was on my knees, arms locked around her shaking body. My voice scraped out, ragged:
"I'm so sorry," I breathed, forehead pressed to hers. "Holy light, I nearly took you with it…"
She clung tighter, and I swore, right then, she'd never feel that storm again.
Rising, I loosened my hold, letting her breathe. She looked up at me, eyes wide, voice barely steady.
"Sir Benjamin… what did it say?"
I stared at the ruin around us splintered beams, dust swirling in the dawn light then back at her. My jaw tightened.
"It's my father. They say he's dying."
She went pale, covering her mouth.
"No… no, my king, I'm so sorry"
I pulled her close one arm around her shoulders, my chin resting on her hair.
My voice was low, steady, but my chest still rumbled with restrained growls.
"Shh. Don't mourn him yet. That old lion's wrestled death to the dirt more times than I've outwitted a council full of vipers.
He's not finished. Not by a long stretch."
She sniffed against my collar.
"Then… what will you do?"
I stepped back, cupped her face gently in my bloody hand. Her tears stung worse than any blade.
"I'm going home. Tonight. And you're coming too. You think I'd leave my best girl here for jackals to sniff at?"
She blinked, voice a whisper.
"Me? But… the city"
I laughed at a real one then leaned down till my forehead touched hers.
"The city's mine whether I stand on it or not. But you, dove, I don't trust Middlesex or Kingston to keep you safe. Only me."
And behind my eyes, another truth clawed at my ribs:
Esau. Levi. If they smelled a loose crown, they'd hunt Aziz. And I'd die before letting that happen.
I brushed my lips to her forehead, voice soft, iron hidden under silk.
"Get the guards. Saddle my dragon. We fly before the moon reaches its peak. And tell the stables: pack warm."
It's a long ride… and we won't be coming back till I bury every bastard who tries to touch what's mine."