The afternoon heat was just beginning to fade when Valex pulled his dark riding cloak tight around his broad shoulders. He pulled the heavy fabric up over his face, leaving only his sharp green eyes visible beneath the hood. Without word to his guards or Azure, he mounted his black stallion in the lower courtyard and rode out through the side gates, blending into the dusty roads that led toward the outer ring of the capital.
His mind was a relentless vice. The questions he had asked Azure earlier had left a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. Her answers had been clumsy, her eyes tracking the floor like a guilty child. He needed a factual anchor, and there was only one man in the territory who held the truth about the royal metadata of the crown: Master Theron, the formal ring maker of the high court.
