Book 18: The Principate

Fallon

Zayn holds my gaze for several aching seconds. I can almost feel him inside my head, and I hate how scared of him I feel right now. I have no idea who he is. I had no idea he was this powerful. Who the fuck is he?

Tears slip free and wet my cheeks. The little boy kneels at Zayn’s feet, facing the young woman I assume is his mother, and bows his head like an execution is something he was prepared for.

“Zayn,” I mouth, terrified, my voice refusing to work. His name cracks over my tongue.

I might be imagining the way his eyes twinkle with emotion before they darken to murderous intent once again. “Please.”

He turns back to the throne and the rows below, ignoring the numerous, disfigured bodies and body parts strewn across the tiles.

The Grand Wizar