Rosalind studied the man as he entered the large reception room and made his way towards her. She remained seated, the height of the chair and the raised platform it was on meant she was looking down on him the whole way.
He was everything she’d expected from the Royal Hunter. Somewhere in his fifties, his skin tanned and leathery, his white hair long and tied back. He was tall, though not exceptionally so, with a medium build. He stalked towards her, moving fluidly from step to step. As he drew near she saw he had piercing green eyes.
He stopped several feet away and nodded to her. She fought back a frown. He should have bowed from the waist. The nod was almost an insult.
“Greetings, Duchess,” he said, his voice gentle but edged with strength. “I am Lucius Kurz. May I offer yo
