Diplomacy's Sake

The ripple of light peeled away the illusion, and the whole room felt cold. Thaeryn’s moonlight hair was nearly black. Ruhkaal felt sick, following the black veins from his jaw up through his cheeks.

“Thaeryn—”

“The High King has always borne this; it is not as bad as it looks.” He smiled wryly. “It...