The Fire Archduke threw himself in front of his terrified sons, drawing his own magma-blade, though his hands were trembling slightly against the sheer density of Kaelus's aura. "It was a joke! A political jest! Stand down!"
"There are no jokes," Kaelus rasped, standing up, kicking his heavy oak chair backward.
The chair hit the wall and shattered into splinters.
He raised Requiem, pointing the tip directly at Castor's chest. "There is only the eradication of the threat. Prepare to die, boys."
Alistair, deciding that his life was worth more than his salary, had successfully crawled under the mahogany table and was currently curled in a fetal position near the table leg, silently praying to the Sun Goddess.
Seraphina knew she had exactly three seconds before her father committed a double homicide that would undoubtedly spark a continental civil war.
She didn't panic or didn't scream.
She deployed the undisputed counter-measure.
"PAPA!"
Seraphina bolted forward.
