The smile was the most terrifying part. It wasn't the leer of a thug or the snarl of an assassin. It was a calm, almost polite curve of the lips, the kind of smile a man might give at a dinner party. It belonged on the face of a courtier, not a killer holding a blade in my private rooms. The firelight gleamed off the polished steel, a sliver of deadly light in the dim room.
"Lord Damien," he said, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone. "A pleasure to finally meet you in person. I am Kael. An... associate of Lord Harren's."
My mind, still reeling from Cassian's letter, slammed into a new reality. The door was locked. The window was three stories up. I was in my robe, unarmed. The assassin, Kael, stood between me and the door, his posture relaxed, his blade held loosely at his side. He wasn't here to fight. He was here to deliver a message. The air grew thick, heavy with unspoken threats.
