“Stop,” Fletcher cried to them. “Don’t move.”
It wasn’t his place to issue orders to Kzar Ilkhar’s guards, but they froze at his command. The clamor died, leaving a gaping chasm of silence in its place. He couldn’t look to see if his outburst had displeased the kzar—his attention was glued to the woman. She was nothing like his best friend, really. She was taller, for one thing, and . . .
And what?
Fletcher didn’t know. There was a bubbling, burning sensation inside him, hovering between his stomach and his heart—like his body had realized something that his brain hadn’t yet grasped.
“What’s wrong?” A shout echoed toward Fletcher from the tunnel behind him. A moment later, Roxanne was at his side. She froze, her honey-hazel gaze locked on the woman on the dais.
“Helkryvt’s blood,” she
