"How about you let her go first? It will be good for you—literally."
The voice cut cleanly through the thick tension of the throne room, resonating from somewhere behind the two aggressors like the sound of steel sliding free of its sheath.
Both Godwin and his towering guard turned their heads slightly, their focus momentarily breaking.
The messenger had spoken.
He was leaning casually against one of the marble pillars that framed the hall, his arms folded loosely across his chest.
His posture was relaxed, but there was a stillness about him that felt more dangerous than any drawn sword.
His gaze was not even fixed on Godwin, he was looking elsewhere, as though the man wasn't worth the effort of his full attention.
In truth, Klaus had been watching this scene unfold from the very moment Godwin stepped foot inside the palace.
