The Kings Omega
"I know you make it. I know you sold it. And I know who you sold it to. The question is, do you want to tell me, or do you want to explain it to the King?"
The man stared at the charred clump of herbs, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. He looked at Flora, his eyes wide with a dawning, horrifying realization. He saw not a girl, but the hand of the crown, the vessel of the King's wrath.
"She'll kill me," he whispered, his voice a raw, broken plea.
"She'll have to get in line," Flora said, her voice a low, cold, steady growl. "Talk."
Sikat na Kabanata