“M’lord Valayn?”

“What now?”

“Jomun sends for you. It’s time.”

“It’s time when I say it is. We’re almost done here anyway.”

“Yes, M’lord.”

“And Ed?”

“Yes, M’lord?”

“Despite Jomun’s proclamations, I am no one’s lord. Not yet.”

Toric Valayn slumped back, shifting ever so slightly from left to right to try and find comfort in the old beechwood chair, despite knowing it was folly. The sweet smell of exotic oils drifted to his nost. . .