Kearnyn bit back a curse as he went into the office. He stopped at once. The room was dark. What the... He checked his watch to make sure of the time. 6:00 in the morning on the dot. Telal was always up and working right now. Fuck, this must be worse than he'd thought.

Switching on the lights as he went, he opened Telal's bedroom door and flicked on the light switch. The lights flickered on to show an empty bed without as much as a wrinkle in the perfectly made comforter. Not a scrap of clothes were left on the floor—nothing.

This had to be really bad.

Kearnyn thought for a moment, and then went with his gut. He knew where he was.

Back at the elevator, he hit the button for floor thirty-five. The doors dinged open and a short path down the hall was a solid white door with a key code on the side. Kearnyn punched in the digits and the door unlocked with a whoosh of compressed air. Inside he heard a mixture of blaring noises, a television and music playing at the same time at a decibel that even a deaf person could hear. Cringing at the offensive sounds, he walked inside not knowing what to expect.

“Shit,” he cursed.

The rec room was Telal's personal space. To Telal, the space was more personal than his bedroom or office. This was where he went if he wanted to work out, meditate, or in this case...get stinking drunk while blaring every electronic in the apartment.

Telal sat in a leather chair, a beer in one hand, a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. The Jack had only a sliver of liquid left inside. Only when Telal lifted the beer can to his lips did Kearnyn sigh with relief. At least he was still alive. Telal faced a large flat screen television that took up most of the wall with some kind of horror flick playing on it. A woman was running from a masked man with a big butcher's knife in his hand. Kearnyn smirked at it. Somehow, though she was running and he walking, the killer seemed to keep pretty darn close to her the whole time.

Stalking to the radio, blaring some kind of rap with a throbbing beat, Kearnyn killed the power. Instantly, the tension in his head eased. The woman on the television screamed as the killer neared her. Her cry seemed to pierce straight through his ear drums.

Kearnyn was trained for many things—picking up after his slobbering drunk boss was not one of them. Still, he went to him and hunkered down to meet him on eye level.

“Sir...” Shit, he stalled for words. He didn't know what to say.

Telal's gaze slowly slid from the TV to him. His eyes were red, glossy, and low-lidded. On closer inspection, everything about him looked wrong. His blue hair looked like a bird had made a nest out of it. It was fuzzy and matted like he'd spilled something in it; and its normal sheen looked dull and lifeless.

“Where'd the music go?” he slurred.

“I turned it off, sir. Can I help you get to your room?”

One eyebrow lifted. “Why'd I wanna go there? That song was my jam.”

Kearnyn frowned. This was more awkward and difficult than he'd thought it'd be. “'Yous a hoe' is your jam, sir?”

“Yes, in fact, buy me the rest of that artist's albums. I want all of his music. Pure genius, Kearnyn. Genius.”

“Yes...sir.” Kearnyn stood, not knowing what to do. “Sir, can I get you something? Food, water, a bed perhaps?”

Telal choked on a laugh. “You are funny, my friend. No, if you don't mind leave me now. I wish to drown alone, thank you.”

Drown alone? That sounded like some suicidal shit right there. Kearnyn took the bottle of Jack and beer out of Telal's hands and stalked to the kitchen. He'd leave, but first he was tossing all this shit out.

“Where are you going?” Telal asked in a deadly voice.

Suddenly pressure encased Kearnyn's body; his steps stopped, leg muscles spasming from some outside source, and tight suffocating pain enveloped him from head to toe. Fuck, not his magic. Sweat pooled on his brow. Burning pain breached his skin, singeing his nerves like he was standing over a fire. Then of their own accord, his body turned and he marched back to Telal. Telal’s glare held a spark of deep hatred that Kearnyn had never seen before. When Telal tore the bottle and can out of his hand he actually sighed in relief. As soon as he had them back, the look receded. The burning magic around him faded until he regained movement in his own body.

“Do not interrupt me until I say so. Got me, Kearnyn?”

“Yeah, I got you.” Kearnyn made his way for the door.

“Turn the music back on.”

Rolling his eyes, Kearnyn hit the power switch on the radio. 'Yous a Hoe' came blasting through the speaker system, the bass loud enough to demolish an old building.

“I'm going to Rosa's to check on production of the weapons.” The only indication he received that Telal heard him was the bottle of Jack being raised in a salute in the air. “What about your guest?” The hand paused in mid-air then slowly lowered back into his lap.

Even over the loud music and the terrifying screams of someone being murdered on the TV, he still heard Telal's low demand. “Do not tell her where I am.”

Kearnyn shook his head. “You got it.”

A brisk knock came at the door.

Arianna closed the journal she'd been writing in and went to answer it. She recognized the steward from the other night and instantly her gut tightened.

“Yes?”

“King Alrik has commanded your presence.”

Oh, God. “Well, I will have to change.”

The steward shook his head. “I'm afraid he's ordered your presence immediately.”

Arianna nodded, feeling like this couldn't be happening to her. Oh, but it was. She closed and locked the door behind her then followed the steward down the hall. She still hadn't recovered from their last dinner together, and it was too early for dinner now. Maybe he wanted to have breakfast with her. Or maybe he wanted... No, she couldn't think about that. That's all she'd been thinking about since he told her.

And now things had changed. She'd seen Telal, her betrothed, for the first time since the war. His appearance was like seeing someone brought back from the grave, she'd been shocked beyond belief and excited to see him. Then he'd publicly denounced their marriage. And that was that. Her opinion made no difference on the matter. Now Alrik wanted her for...sex. Even thinking it made strange feelings grow inside her, made breathing difficult. Who could have thought that such a simple task could be so troubling?

The steward led her down the hall to the royal dining room again. She sighed with relief. Whatever he had planned, he wouldn't be doing it in the dining room. Or would he? Her eyes widened. He'd touched her the first time in there, had made her feel...strange and exciting feelings. If she were honest with herself, she'd admit she wanted to explore those feelings. See just how much he could make her feel. But it all felt so wrong. If this had been before the war when he was a different man, things would be so different. Now he was dark, his heart black. He was not a good man.

The steward opened the double-wide doors. “After you, Lady Arianna.”

She walked inside and mentally checked to make sure her small smile was in place, her hands resting neatly at her sides, her chin up. Alrik was nowhere to be seen.

Arianna turned back to the steward just as he was closing the doors. “Where's the king?”

“He shall arrive momentarily, my lady.”

Arianna flinched as the doors closed. From the last booming echo of the door shutting, she felt as though her fate had been sealed. Silence filled the air. The chandeliers were lit and flickering over the grand table, but no plates were set for a meal. Unease trembled through her. Unsure what to do, she walked to the table then crossed back to the door. Again and again. What did he want with her? Why bring her here now? Without a formal appointment? Her gut twisted and churned. Her fingers began to tremble and she wrung them together to hide it.