I froze, suspecting tens of guards to run me through at any moment and released Linka to free my arms, or tried to. She held my hand in a vice-like grip and turned to face Rudolph"s red-faced fury – no easy achievement for a pale skinned Eternal.
“Good evening, father.”
“What is this…this…schweinhund,” he spat, “doing here of all places?” Rudolph"s lips curled back like a rabid dog, his single fang protruding like a pointer searching for a map. His roly-poly physique looked set to pop, and I contemplated stepping behind Linka to avoid the splatter.
“I said, good evening, father.”
I watched something unwritten, something akin to pack dominance play out between the pair. Rudolph shifted from foot to chubby foot, his nostrils flaring. Linka remained impassive throughout his protestations
