High above the Hunting Grounds, hidden behind the Colosseum's uppermost arches, a room existed that wasn't on any building plan.
It was a small room, but fancy. Velvet curtains hung over the windows, a heavy mahogany table sat in the center, and crystal glasses were filled with dark wine. Two men sat in plush armchairs, while Prince Oscar sat in a wheelchair, his body limp from the neck down, his eyes locked onto a mirror mounted on the far wall.
The mirror didn't show reflections.
It showed Holden Voss, standing alone in a golden dome, staring up at a Venom-Tail Manticore.
Prince Oscar's head lolled slightly to one side, a lazy smile on his face. His paralyzed fingers rested uselessly on the armrests of his chair. A servant stood behind him, carefully holding a glass of wine to his lips when he leaned forward to sip.
"Look at him," Oscar said, his voice smooth despite everything. "Not even running. The slum rat doesn't even have the sense to be afraid."
