"Yes."

Less out of actually wanting to kill everyone personally, and more because with sulking, self-indulgence is the point. And distanced from the agonies of execution, the broad sweeping bitterness of it appealed. Everyone. All of it.

He shifts back into a boy, draped against Zerxus's side instead of perching on top of him, and bites the heel of his thumb, bringing up a few drops of blood with catlike needle teeth.

"Drink," he orders. "You'll feel nice."