Forty Eight & One Half
Callen had been halfway through a stack of reports when one of his personal knights knocked, three sharp raps that cut cleanly through the quiet of his office. “Enter,” Callen called, already pushing his chair back as if his body had sensed urgency before his mind caught up. The knight stepped in with his helm tucked under his arm, expression tight. “My prince. Zakai, the elven knight you assigned to the Isles, is requesting an audience.” Callen stood so fast the legs of his chair scraped stone. A cold line of dread slid down his spine. “Send him in,” he ordered. Then, forcing the rising panic back behind his teeth, he added, “And notify Crown Prince Christian.” The knight snapped a fist to his chest and backed out. Callen didn’t sit again. He paced to the window and stared out at
- Writer
