Friends of Venom
"Show your faces," Edric ordered, his voice slicing sharply across the heavy hush.
Hood by hood, the hoods were dropped. Gasps echoed from the periphery of the tent. Not nameless vagabonds or desperate mercenaries, these were Moonstone's best. A battalion commander from the border regions. Two members of the Moonstone royal staff. Lords who governed eastern municipalities, whose reach extended to the end of the kingdom. Faces that were supposed to be only in the halls of Moonstone power, not here under Vellore's king's tent.
Garry's eyes narrowed, then raised again, more slowly, as if measuring the worth of each man in front of him. "You bring me high-value guests, Edric."
"They're yours now," Edric replied bluntly.
