Maegel moved to my side instantly, his hand resting on my shoulder in a way that was meant to be protective but felt like a desperate anchor.
"Lyssa, you should have stayed in bed. The Duke is being... difficult."
"The Duke isn't being difficult, Maegel," I said, looking straight at Jerome. The demon prince's lips quirked into the ghost of a smirk. "He's being terrified. He knows that every hour he spends arguing about grain is another hour the blight eats away at the Spire's foundations."
I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. The silence in the room was so thick it felt physical.
"Duke," I said softly, "Julian is a merchant. He wants profit. Maegel is a Prince. He wants peace. But I? I just want to see how long it takes for a mountain of obsidian to turn to dust once the belly is empty."
"You dare—" one of the lesser demon lords started, half-rising.
