Prologue
The man was trying to control his fear. He stood with one hand resting on the tall, ornate door to the king’s chamber, wearing a long robe with a hood that hid his face. The king required hoods; he didn’t want to see the faces of people who crept toward him like worms unless he requested it. It was almost never a good thing if the king asked to see your face. The hood was fine. With the hood, you didn’t need to see him either. Not that he was ugly to look at—he was handsome in a deadly, ruthless way. But the eyes. There were rumors he could kill with his eyes alone.
The man’s robe was a deep, brilliant red. Only five red robes existed—for the five closest servants of the king—but many, many people had worn them. Red robes didn’t have a long lifespan and this man, standing at the
