Page 128 of Glutton for Punishment

“I’ll sleep when this is over and Arw-, …I mean all of my people are safe.”

She gives me a look that says exactly what she thinks of that answer. A knock interrupts us before she can argue further, and one of my gang steps inside.

“Riven agreed to the meeting.”

The room stills. Even Valentine looks surprised.

That makes two of us.

***

The meeting takes place in the limited neutral territory we have.

An old underground lounge buried beneath the ruins of a casino. The air tastes of stale smoke and damp concrete. Flickering fluorescents cast long, nervous shadows across water-stained walls and a floor sticky with spilled liquor. The only exit is a single staircase at the far end, swallowed by darkness. The kind of place where bodies get left and never found.

But the important thing is no civilians.

Riven doesn’t stand when I walk in. He’s settled into one of the leather chairs with his ankle crossed over his knee, silver rings catching the dim light, suit without a single crease in it. Performed confidence.

His expression gives away nothing, but the scar bisecting his face catches the low light.

I’ve always considered Riven my biggest competition, probably because we are almost exactly alike in every way, except the one that counts. We both want power, but he doesn’t care how many bodies he has to stand on to get it.

Duval stands beside me like a mountain carved from stone, while Valentine lingers near the back wall.

“You came,” Riven says.

“I was curious,” I reply. “Is Amaya annoying you so much already that you're considering jumping ship to my side?”

One corner of his mouth lifts.

“You’ve always been so arrogant. Haven’t you learned that arrogance blinds you?”

“And what’s blinded you, Riven? Kidnapping? I never thought you’d mistake brute cruelty for strategy. That’s usually a trait reserved for the less intelligent branches of our father’s bloodline.”

Riven’s expression barely shifts, but something colder settles behind his eyes.

“Careful, brother. You’re starting to sound emotional.”

“Careful,” I reply. “You’re starting to sound desperate.”

Riven folds his hands. “This war is becoming expensive.”

“Well, you drew first blood.”

“No,” he says mildly. “You destabilized the balance.”

My jaw tightens.

Riven watches me. “You’re distracted lately,” he notes.

“Get to the point.”

He tilts his head. “Withdraw from the southern districts. Stop recruiting allies. Publicly renounce any claim to succession.” His eyes sharpen. “And this ends. Your bonded will be safe.”

I stare at him. I could almost laugh at the audacity.

“Is this a joke? You came all the way here to ask me to kneel?”