The Elf Queen's voice cut through the tension like a knife through silk. Calm. Musical. A stream of cool water in a river of boiling rage.
Her offer wasn't peace. It wasn't surrender. It was a different, more interesting kind of war.
Dante looked at her carefully. Studying her. At the ancient, amused wisdom showing in her forest-green eyes. Eyes that had seen centuries pass. Maybe millennia.
He had no need for their sympathy. No desire for their offers of protection or alliance. His path was already set in his mind. Already decided.
But to walk that path successfully, he needed time. And he needed to avoid making enemies of all the most powerful beings in this world at once. Avoid them all trying to kill him simultaneously.
To be a king, one must first learn to be a side character. A player moving in the shadows, building power, waiting for the right moment. Until the time comes to step into the light and seize the throne.
Her bet wasn't a solution to his problems.
