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Stolen Breath
[Segundus]
“My Liege,” two knights bow before me. The one speaking is quivering with fear while the second knight remains prostrated before the throne, his head arms and chest flat against the cold, hard, slate floor.
The first knight hesitates. He knows he has to deliver bad news, I can tell by the stink of fear emanating off of him and how his body collapses when he kneels before me, his head tapping the floor.
“Report,” my voice is neutral, my face is blank, but I’m already seething. I am glad my queen is not here to see what will happen next, because I cannot promise I can contain my anger once whatever this worm has to say has come spilling from his lips like rancid food.
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