"Lucius," Durans greeted with a low purr, focus on the game board. "About time you've returned to me."
Lucius was always light on his feet – a characteristic of any man in his trade, but that didn't mean he was ever hidden from the imperial prince's sharp ears.
It was an invitation enough for the man to enter his chambers and cross for the largest window of the room - the one overlooking the palace's marbled fountain. Lucius was drawn to it the way a moth as drawn to flame, and Durans guessed that it had something to do with the fact that it faced southwest at an almost perfect degree.
Southwest, Durans had quickly discovered, was indicative to 'home' for those who lived under the rule of the Shadow Court.
"And how was dear old brother, Lucius? Pompous and pigheaded as ever?"
He noted the assassin's smile but heard not a breath of his amusement.
"Your brother was… well, harebrained," said the man. "And a bit… impatient."
