King Mikael walked briskly through the quiet stone corridors of the Elnorian royal palace, a cold rage simmering within him.
This part of the palace housed his personal gardens and was usually lined with guards, but tonight, the hall was empty. The light from the torched flickered weakly, emphasizing the facts that his own soldiers had abandoned their posts.
He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. The lack of security here wasn't some sort of oversight. It was a message.
The Pope had grown bold.
Mikael forced himself to relax. He unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. Anger would do nothing here, not yet. Not when he was about to meet the greatest threat to the safety of the kingdom.
His father had taught him well, but he was sure that nothing had been able to prepare him for meetings like this.
He reached the tall oak door at the end of the hall and paused for a moment, gathering himself before pushing it open.
