Elijah lounged lazily on a throne-like chair, one leg draped over the other as he plucked a grape from the bunch and popped it into his mouth. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, his eyes glinting with amusement that didn’t reach the darkness behind them.

“To what,” he drawled, his tone rich with mockery, “do I owe this… displeasure?”

The sound of dripping water echoed faintly in the distance, the only other noise apart from the faint crackle of firelight illuminating his throne.

He ...