Broden took another step back. Then he crossed his arms and pulled himself to his full height. Fortunately, he was able to look down at the man with the grut, who was shorter than he. This one, like all the men in black who’d recently descended upon Zarek’s palace, unnerved him, but the beast was of even greater concern. A single drop of its blood or saliva on his skin would mean certain death.
He vowed he’d show no fear. “Let me pass,” he ordered.
The man’s full expression could not be seen through the black wrapping around his head. Only his eyes were visible. They sparkled. “Oh? Where are you headed?” he asked, a taunting smile in his voice.
“To see my father—Zarek.”
“He’s not expecting you.”
“No, he’s not.”
The man seemed to take his measure. “Wait here.”
He turned away and entered the room.
Broden bit his lip. He didn’t want to invite trouble, but more than that, he didn’t want Zarek’s men, succedunt or not, to think they could order him about. So, with a deep breath, he grabbed the door handle, flung it open, and then boldly marched inside.
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