"Sometimes all you need is confession whispered by a friend."
The rain had begun by the time I reached Marcus's quarters. Heavy drops beat against the palace windows, the sound echoing down the long corridors like a drum of inevitability. Vayne prowled beneath my skin, restless, his voice a low snarl.
"He reeks of Juno. Confront him. Make him speak." Vayne, my wolf, pushed the words through.
"I will," I told him, though my heart was weighed heavily. "But on my terms, not yours."
I pushed the door open without knocking, and Marcus looked up from where he sat at the edge of his bed, stripping away the last of his armor. His surprise faded quickly into something else, resignation, and he knew why I was here or sensed that I had come to confront him about a serious matter.
"Your Majesty Alaric," he greeted quietly, setting his gauntlets aside. "You don't look like a man here to share a drink."
I closed the door behind me, leaning against it. "Because I'm not."
