"My Lord, I just confirmed now that the assassins are dead." The voice came soft as whispering night.
Thrain resisted a shudder as he swung his legs across his bed to sit up. The naked woman beside him shifted, but she continued sleeping.
He stood up, naked and shameless, as he walked over to his table and poured himself some wine. It wasn't ordinary wine, though—most ordinary alcohol didn't work on Knights. They needed something stronger, harder.
He drank quietly. The room was covered in different symbols that glowed faintly in the dim light. Not just anyone could enter his room, or they would be cut down.
The voice that woke him was that of his personal spy. "All of them?"
"No. But the strongest were."
"And Atrox killed them alone?" he asked. As far as he knew, his brother was only a Knight rank. No way he could do something like that alone...!
"Yes. The others made sure everyone was asleep. Especially the Master Knight."
