Lucian's Pov
Malvin's tone had shifted. Drastically. Gone was the feigned warmth, the measured diplomacy he'd worn like a mask. Now his voice was sharp, bitter—coated in the venom of something long stewed in resentment.
I sat behind my desk, the old oak groaning faintly beneath my weight, watching him with a calm I didn't quite feel. I could see the fire behind his eyes now, the true fervor of a man who believed every word he was saying.
"You don't see it, do you?" he snapped, his eyes sharp with disdain. "You sit on your throne, blind to the rot at its base. You call us traitors, but we're saviors. We're cleansing the system you uphold!"
I folded my arms and narrowed my eyes, keeping my voice calm despite the rising heat in my veins. "You just said your leader was cruel and playing games with lives. Now you're a mouthpiece for their movement again? Which is it, Malvin?"
