The sun was beginning to dip behind the black ridges surrounding Aurevulf Lands. The air smelled of smoke from the forges that never stopped burning. Rogues walked the paths that cut through the settlement, warriors, traders, and mercenaries who answered only to their king.
Lucien walked toward the most prominent building, making his way to the hall, his steps steady but his jaw tight. His father, the Rogue King, Orion, summoned him, which meant it wasn't a request. It never was.
Inside the hall, the room was bare of any luxury except the throne carved from ironwood at the far end, which had a wolf pelt. Orion sat there, broad-shouldered and intimidating. His golden eyes, the mark of a true Rogue King, didn't soften when they landed on Lucien.
Lucien bowed slightly out of respect. "You called for me."
Orion's voice was deep and steady. "I did. Sit."
Lucien stayed standing. "I prefer to stand."
