Kael Valier was, at that moment, having his breakfast in silence.
At least, that is what it would have seemed like to others. His spine was straight, his actions controlled, and the plate before him seemed unmolested except for the single boiled egg in his hand. Nothing about the situation seemed dramatically out of place.
But the truth, as ever, was very different indeed.
Kael's lips were pursed into a tight, wan line. His eyebrows were narrowed so intently that faint shadow creases formed at the outer corners of his eyes. The sinews on the back of his hand pulled taut against the skin as he gripped the boiled egg, as though he meant to pulverize it through the force of his bare fist alone. His fury seethed quietly, coiled within him like a snake ready to strike at any moment.
