RYKER’S POV
Sweat stung my eyes as I paced the throne room, boots thudding against the polished stone. The air hung heavy, thick with incense and the faint tang of iron from the armory below. My fingers flexed around the hilt of my dagger, the leather grip slick under my palm, and I cursed under my breath, the echo bouncing off the high walls. Tenebrous; my own Tenebrous was a f*****g powder keg, and I’d just lit the match without knowing it.
The double doors creaked open, wood groaning, and Kade strode in, his cloak flapping, dust swirling in his wake. His dark beard glistened with sweat, eyes sharp and narrowed, and he tossed a crumpled parchment onto the table, the thud loud in the quiet. “Trouble,” he said, voice rough, wiping his brow with a scarred hand. “Big trouble.”
I snatched
