Zavian sheathed his sword, and he raised his head as he heard two riders gallop toward them. He recognized one of the men as Azriel's guard, and another as his. If they could come to seek out either the King or General Commander in the middle of practice, it was either for good news or bad news.
Zavian's hand tensed, and Azriel looked at him, giving him a firm nod, his form of assurance.
"Your Majesty," Zavian's guard bowed in greeting when he dismounted off the horse. Zavian searched his face for any sympathy, the readiness of grief to fall off his lips.
"The Queen sends us to you." The guard said. "She said she needs you back at the castle as soon as you can."
Zavian's hands slacked by his side. "What happened to the Queen?"
"Your Majesty..."
"I said what happened to the Queen?" Zavian could not hide his panic.
"Nothing, your Majesty, nothing I am aware of. She only said it was urgent." The guard said.
