Kael had both hands in his hair and was circling his chambers in a loop that tightened every lap. The crash was inevitable unless the ground opened up and did him a favor.
Then he stopped dead, because the floor had a visual aid that killed the metaphor for him, and what he saw made saying goodbye to Gerald look like a walk in the park.
Blood.
He hadn't noticed it until now. It had dried on the dark obsidian floor. There was definitely a trail of drops that led to the bathing chamber door.
Three men who should have been paying attention didn't spare him a glance. The first hadn't looked up from Guinevere in four minutes. The second was mentally drafting a letter to Blair complimenting the curtains and thanking her for the entertainment.
