Elric kicked the heavy oak door open and strode into the desolate chamber. His wife's familiar, fading scent still lingered in the air, tainted by another, one that made his blood curdle in his veins. He stalked to the bed, tearing the linen sheets away with a violent yank, and brought them to his face, inhaling sharply before casting them down upon the stone floor in a fit of rage.
"She was here," the silver-haired king growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, "and that bastard was with her." Elric spun on his heel to face the trembling innkeeper, who was badly bruised and pinned down by the iron grip of one of his royal guards. "Where is she? The highborn red-haired woman who spent the night within these walls…where has she fled?!"
The innkeeper whimpered, the palpable aura of death radiating from the silver-haired, king threatening to stop his heart entirely. "I-I know not where they went, my lord! They spoke no word of their destination—"
