The Red Mark
That’s what they called Coren’s body bleeding out on the floor.
“And the girl?” the man asked. The one with the voice made for obedience.
They shifted, clearing his view.
My view.
That’s when I saw him.
He was taller than most of the men around him, shoulders filling out the black coat he wore like the uniform of a king. His hair was dark, cut short on the sides, longer on top, pushed back with careless precision. There was a small scar near his lip, pale against olive skin, and his jaw was shadowed with stubble, like he hadn’t slept properly in days.
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