Zal'therak, Islinda's half-brother, stood at a distance, mounted on his beast, an unsettling creature with ridged scales and bone spines, its eyes glowing an unnatural shade of green. The beast snorted, its nostrils flaring as it shifted uneasily beneath its rider, but neither man moved. The stare between Aldric and Zal'therak was full of silent calculation.
Unlike Aldric, who had come with a battalion of soldiers, Zal'therak was alone. It rankled him. The Wraith king didn't fear him. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and Aldric's gaze hardened as he stood still, allowing the tension to stretch.
Aldric assumed that Zal'therak's arrogance was borne not just of his own confidence, but from the knowledge that he had Islinda. If anything happened to him, Islinda would die. That knowledge must have given him the boldness to stand alone. And now, here they were, two kings, staring at each other from across the distance.
