Page 17 of Bosse


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All seemed at peace here. Fresh air filled with pine scent lifted above the rot of leaves in the mud. Small animals scurried from one spot to another. Birds flew overhead, confirming no unusual threat nearby. He goaded Cierna into walking again and forced himself to move steadily without rushing.

In this forest, dark would arrive before the sun fully dropped out of sight in another hour.

Besides, he would not risk injury to his mount by hurrying through a treacherous route overgrown like a tangled rat’s nest of weeds and debris from storms. If Cierna stepped in a hole and became lame, Krol would be forced to shift into his lion to kill his magnificent ride and then return to the castle in animal form.

It was undignified for a king to do such a thing. He shifted only when he wished to hunt and kill for sport, not to exercise his lion or travel like a peasant.

Everyone in his kingdom, including his lion, lived only to serve Krol.

Finally, the trees thinned out, allowing a gentle breeze to snake around his face. He slowed his horse before entering the unkempt open space surrounding a once impressive stronghold.

As a young cub, he’d escape his father’s pride and spend days here rambling through the stone fortress. He laughed, recalling when he’d chased a small bear across the wooden walkway stretched between two points of the structure like a bridge.

On the other hand, he cringed just thinking back at the damp and moldy smell of rot from decaying furniture scattered around. Peeling wallpaper spoke of a majestic time in the past.

This place had inspired him to have his own castle.

While the main building and wall structures appeared sturdy at first glance, he’d had a floor covered with a threadbare rug fall away from beneath him. His lion’s quick reaction and ability to leap a great distance saved him from injury more than once.

He walked Cierna over to a tree at the edge of the forest, then dismounted and tied the reins to a low branch. While doing so, he listened for any unexpected sounds.

None yet.

Strolling across the open area that had once been kept scalped to prevent enemies from sneaking up on the castle, Krol stopped in the middle of the field.

The mage should be here already. He likely observed Krol at this moment.

Krol would not take insult unless the mage delayed appearing for longer than social etiquette allowed.

That thought had no sooner crossed his mind when a ball of golden energy appeared above the thirty-foot-tall stone wall. The ball of light glowed against the deepening twilight as if the sun had fallen from the sky.

When the swirling energy dissipated, Zuzani appeared, staring down his nose at Krol.

Zuzani stepped off the wall, floating down with the ease of a feather carried on the light breeze.

Krol managed to keep a straight face and not roll his eyes at the show of power.

The mage moved smoothly across the thirty-five yards separating them. His loose clothing hid the shape of his body, but Krol sized up human forms all the time. Though not entirely human, this one had an average body with adequate muscle but nothing that matched a lion shifter. Thick russet hair appeared blown back from Zuzani’s youthful face as if he’d been racing forward against a strong wind. Diamond studded earrings sparkled at his ears.

For them to sparkle, there had to be magic at work, with no light available to shine on jewels.

Krol had met this man once before.

Zuzani had worn the same Persian gray silk tunic with long bell sleeves ornately embroidered in gold. Black pants of similar material flowed with the slightest encouragement from the air befriending him. Most notable was the silver pendant hanging against his chest on a thick chain braided of gold, silver, and bronze threads. A walnut-sized ruby set in the center of the pendant glowed.

More magic.

Was the show for Krol’s benefit? A wasted effort. He only cared that this mage could do what he claimed.

Zuzani’s arms were folded in front of him with his hands hidden inside the sleeves.

Anyone with a lick of survival sense knew those hands were his weapons.

As the mage neared, he said, “I am prepared to make an equitable agreement if you are.”

“Of course, I am. My presence should confirm I am more than ready.” Krol had no patience for people who talked in circles, but he would only have to suffer through talking to this one until he got what he wanted.

Was the mage truly ready to make the delivery now?