The halls of the fortress shook with the force of Therion's fury.

Servants ducked into alcoves. Guards straightened, muscles locked. No one spoke. No one breathed.

He stormed toward the eastern wing…toward Virela's chambers.

Every step he took was a warning. A promise.

At the door, he didn’t knock. He kicked it open.

Virela lounged lazily on a velvet settee, a goblet of wine dangling from her fingers, her robe barely tied.

She smiled when she saw him. "Your Majesty," she purred. ...