"The succession doesn't ask for your permission, mage," Kael said, his voice dropping into a quiet, absolute command that reverberated through the damp limestone walls like a heavy iron vault door shutting.
He didn't wait for Vane to calculate a response or try to gather his sputtering, weak purple static. With a calculated, frictionless grace that belonged entirely to the high courts of the south, Kael turned his back on the cowering sorcerers, fixing his mismatched eyes directly on the battle-scarred Lycan vanguard.
