SOMEWHERE IN THE DEPTHS OF THE STONE PALACE…
Luca's back rested against the cold stone wall, the roughness scraping against his skin. It would have been unbearable for a human, but he didn't flinch. Beast men had skin hardened through years of battles and hunts; to him, it was nothing more than the faintest scratch.
He stood in the shadows, where the torchlight from the courtyard didn't quite reach, arms folded loosely across his chest. The celebration outside rang with laughter and music—the pounding of drums, the distant crackle of fire, the shrill joy of children's voices—but here, in this lonely hallway, it felt like another world.
He wasn't interested in the festival. He had nothing to do with it. His reason for being here had nothing to do with roasted meat or palm wine or dances under the moonlight.
He was waiting.
Waiting for someone who also had nothing to do with the festivities tonight.