"Leave," Eastiel snarled. The golden lightning still crackled at his fingertips, barely contained. "Leave now, before I kill you where you stand."
"You know I can. And you know there is not a single soul in this world, not your father, not the Empire, not the gods themselves, who could do a damn thing to stop me."
Arzhen knew it was true.
The part of his brain that wasn't screaming with insult and fury acknowledged the truth. Even at the height of his power, with his father's army in his full command, acknowledged by everyone, a force of nature like the one Eastiel had just unveiled could not be contained by politics or armies.
This raw power… it was on a level he had only ever associated with the legends of Arkai Dawnoro. And Eastiel was not yet thirty.
People in the courts whispered that the Tiger Prince of the East, Arzhen, was a peer to the Golden Lion King. But Arzhen knew the secret fuel for his own ascent. It was his bond with Cecilia.
