His Royal Breeder
Zayn countered, his voice turning ice cold.
He began to pace around the three men, circling them like a shark circling it's prey. "She has more control in her pinky finger than you three have in your entire shriveled souls."
"If she loses control...." Thorne started.
"If she loses control," Zayn interrupted, his eyes flashing red for a split second, "I’ll be the one to handle it. Not you. Not your councilmen. If she burns this world down, I’ll be the one holding the match. Now, unless you have a more interesting reason to be in my throne room, like, perhaps, offering me a gift or apologizing for your existence, I suggest you leave. The air is getting a bit stale with all this... 'wisdom' you