He threw open the ornate doors to the Guard Quarters. The stale scent of cigar smoke filled his nose before he saw the man he was looking for.
Eryk, Chief of the Royal Guard, sat in his high-backed chair behind a desk, one leg casually crossed over the other. A fine curl of smoke coiled from the cigar pinched between his fingers—until he saw Damien.
"Your Highness!" Eryk sprang to his feet, the cigar dropping into an ashtray as though burned by the sheer force of Damien's presence.
He stood to full height, straightening his back and bowing slightly.
"Eryk…I found out today," Damien continued, taking slow, deliberate steps toward his old friend, "that I had been infiltrated by Lord Gabriel… by my most trusted servant…I feel like I have been sleeping while my roof is on fire."
He stopped just in front of Eryk, the silence between them crackling. Eryk, clad in his guard uniform, stiffened as Damien reached into his waistband and drew a blade.
