“You fucking shit,” Hugh says, slamming a hand on the table. My cup rattles and some coffee spills out, dripping onto the table. “You think you can win this? You really think that? Just because I missed once doesn’t mean I’ll miss again.”
I laugh as I walk to the door. “You don’t get it, do you? You took your shot and now I know where you stand. I’ve killed harder and stronger men than you, Hugh. The only reason you’re still breathing is I want to avoid a civil war, but that’s looking less and less likely, and I’m starting to rethink my position. Reconsider my offer and save your pathetic skin.”
I walk out of there before they can argue. Cormac looks frightened, pale and drawn, like he’d been so sure I’d take that deal.
But the old bastard doesn’t know me.
I’m my father’s son.
As much as I hate it, Orin Hayle raised me and scarred me and brutalized me into thinking the way he does. Power is a zero-sum game, and I will not share my power with a man like Hugh, not for anything. I’d rather die than give him a shred of my throne or my crown.
I storm out of there, fuming, and head back to my room to take my frustration and anger out on Tara.