Izan stepped out of the pavilion, his form swallowed by the shadows as he moved swiftly through the dimly lit streets. He kept to the darkness, his senses heightened, the sharp twinge of paranoia gnawing at the back of his mind. He couldn't afford to be followed. Not now. Not when his emotions were teetering on the edge.
His thoughts spiraled relentlessly around one singular idea, Lord Cedric.
The man had dared to embarrass Elian, had dared to make his claim. It was more than Izan could tolerate.
Not only was Lord Cedric a vile man, but he was also one of the Empress's most loyal followers, a sheep who would eagerly bend to her will in exchange for power. And anything that involved the Empress complicated matters tenfold.
