The head didn't bounce. It landed with a soft squelch, rolling just enough to face the Emperor on an angle. The man who thought he was the ruler of the world stared at the head as if it might rise again and speak.
Clearly, the Emperor had never seen war or blood, because he was seriously squeamish about stuff like that.
I stepped back and crossed my arms in front of my chest, my eyes glittering with quiet satisfaction.
No one moved.
Not a single minister dared breathe too loud. The guards near the entrance didn't reach for their weapons. The generals didn't speak.
And it was all because of me and the fact that no one knew what I would do next.
The Emperor rose slowly, his face pale, the fury in his eyes barely contained. "You—"
"Are standing in your presence," I interrupted sweetly, "covered in your son's blood. Well, to be fair, I'm also covered in a lot of my own blood, too. But there is no point in arguing over schematics."
