Chapter 269

Daphne

"What suggestions?" the burly man with the tiger ears says. His voice is tight, the earlier smugness replaced by a thin veneer of control stretched over panic.

I sigh internally.

"You know what suggestion," I say, letting a hint of bored impatience color my tone. I roll my shoulders in a lazy shrug. "I propose a duel."

The gasps that ripple through the chamber are, frankly, pathetic. A symphony of indrawn breaths and fluttering fans. What fucking cowards.

I’d expect the theatrics from the herbivore bloc—their instincts are wired for flight, after all. But the predators in here? The wolves and foxes and hawks? They’ve been declawed by velvet chairs and vintage wine.

"Duels and death matches for succession have been banned for over a hundred years! They are a relic of a savage past! We are a civilized kingdom!"

"Oh."

The single syllable drops from my lips, flat and cold.

The bear lord who’d burst out flinches, his bluster vanishing as he refuses to meet my eyes. The room holds its breath.

"Uncivilized?" I say, my voice dangerously quiet. "Uncivilized, you say? Are you calling the Nyxclaw Duchy uncivilized because we still honor those practices?"

He pales. "N-n-no, that’s not what I meant, Your Grace—"

"Isn’t it?" I cut him off, not raising my voice.

"And this is exactly why such practices need to be remembered. A hundred years ago, you lot wouldn’t have dared propose something this ridiculous." I lean forward, planting my elbows on my knees.

"All your heads would have been rolling."

A visible shiver runs through the assembly. I recognize that there must be something wrong with me in this life, because I love that.

"I’m saying," I continue, my tone shifting to one of brutal simplicity, "if you want to challenge a Lion for his position, you should have the strength to beat the Lion. Not just outvote him."

Multiple gulps sound around the hall, a comical chorus of swallowed terror.

"In the east," I say, stating a fact as simple as gravity, "strength rules all. Not bloodline committees. Not scrolls. Strength. You all wish to change the kingdom’s most fundamental law? Fine." I shrug.

"But the east is a part of this kingdom. And the east will only recognize this new law... my way."

The Tiger finally speaks, his voice a low growl of controlled fury. "And if we don’t? If the council votes down your... amendment?"

I smile. It’s not a pleasant expression.

"How many of you," I muse, my gaze drifting idly over the rows of pale, nervous faces, "do you think I could kill in this room before I escaped?"

A choked sound comes from somewhere. The Tiger’s eyes widen, his brave facade cracking. His tail betrays him, lashing once in a nervous, uncontrollable twitches.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he demands, but the bravado is thin as rice paper.

"Because it would mean the beginning of a civil war," I say.

*

The vote is carried out quietly, with a speed that speaks of shared, desperate urgency. No more speeches. No more debate. Parchment is passed, wax seals are pressed with trembling hands, and the result is announced in a near-whisper by the ashen-faced chamberlain.

The amendment passes.

The new law of succession will include the Challenge Clause. No non-Lion royal may simply inherit; they must publicly defeat the reigning heir in a contest of strength, the terms to be set by the Crown and the Council of Dukes.

As the nobles flee the chamber, a river of silk and fur trying not to look like they’re running, I watch them with mild curiosity.

Why are they so scared?

I mean, I was just joking when I spoke of a civil war.

Well. Not really joking. More like... outlining the inevitable, logical conclusion.

If they’re going to act like prey, they shouldn’t be surprised when a predator points out how easy they’d be to catch.

[Host,] the System’s voice chimes in my mind, flat and analytical, [statistical analysis indicates a 94.7% probability of neutralizing the primary threat—the Tiger Prince—through targeted assassination or political imprisonment. The method employed was suboptimal for risk-reward.]

I walk out of the now-empty council chamber, my boots echoing in the cavernous hall. "I could have," I agree easily.

[...]

The System is silent for a long moment.

A slow, predatory grin spreads across my face.

"But where’s the fun in that?" I murmur aloud.

Like seriously, I think a bloody battle would be more meaningful anyway. More honest.

Speak of the devil.

Standing in the middle of the grand corridor, blocking the path to the palace’s inner sanctums, is the male lead himself.

Four years have carved the boy out of him.

He looks every inch the lion king in waiting. Certainly male lead material.

"Duke of Panthers," he says. His voice is deeper, steadier, more resonant than I remember. I don’t like it. I don’t like the loss of that faint, uncertain tremor and fear.

And besides, I’m tall, but he’s gotten taller.

The academy boy is gone, replaced by this... this huge creature of muscle, broad enough to block the light from the high windows.

It’s obscenely unfair.... actually it’s not, I do not ever want to look this large, I like have lean muscles.

Now this makes me sad. I’d hoped for a nice, bloody, uncertain battle.

A true clash of titans for the entertainment of the masses. But looking at him now, solid as a mountain, it seems he’ll win easily. Where’s the drama in that? Where’s the fun?

Boring. I hope in one of my lives, I find myself in a place that actually honors bloody battles.

"If it isn’t the little lion," I say, not masking the cool disappointment in my tone. He wants to stand there and project kingly aura? He wants to compare dick sizes? Fine. I’ll oblige. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

He holds my gaze for three heartbeats. Four.Five.

He looks away first. Ofcourse he does.