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wished it hidden.
“No self-righteous speeches?”
“This is war,” he said simply. “We’re past
that sort of thing.”
And it wouldn’t matter, would it, when his
eternal soul would be the asking price to
staunch so much of the slaughter? He’d
already had it wrecked enough. If crossing
line after line would spare any others from
harm, he’d do it. He didn’t know what manner
of king that made him.
Manon hummed, deeming that an
acceptable answer. “You know about court
intrigue and scheming,” she said, deft fingers
again flying over the laces and hooks of the
boots. “How would you ... play this, as you
called it earlier? My situation with the
Crochans.”
Dorian rested a hand under his head. “The
problem is that they hold all the cards. You