Killian took a breath and prepared to face his competition.
17
Killian
The door to their left opened, and a young man emerged. He shivered as he crossed the threshold, shaking his loose blond hair.
No, not blond—yellow. The tall, slender man had hair the color of dandelions. It looked ridiculous with his sallow, too-serious face, and his bright green, undeniably expensive suit.
“Ah, Mr. Vaneer,” Julian greeted him, all enthusiasm vanishing from his voice. “Killian, meet your opponent, Mr. Thomes Vaneer.”
Killian extended his hand, but Thomes only scowled.
“I use the word ‘opponent’ generously,” Julian added. “Mr. Vaneer has been attending these games for the last six years, squandering his daddy’s artifacts, and he has never once been a contender.”
“Dead Man’s Bluff is a children’s game,” Thomes sneered back. “Give me a game with real stakes and I’ll wipe the floor with everyone.”
Thomes slumped into the nearest chair, leaving Killian to suppress an eye roll. Dead Man’s Bluff was a game of deception and cunning, and if the Blade of Hanael was any indication, the stakes were high.
“Yes, well,” Julian drawled, “you are the only child in attendance.”
Thomes was about to retort with something undoubtedly witty when a commotion interrupted.
“I should have knownyouwould be here.”
“Of course. I can’t go anywhere without you tailing me.”
Killian whirled toward the opposite wall. Two men, both with dark skin and bald heads, stood in separate doorways with their fingers pointed at one another. They looked so alike, they might have been arguing with a mirror.
“Oh good, the twins have arrived,” Julian muttered.
“I told you I’d poison you the next time I saw you,” one of the men shouted.
“And I told you I’d burn down your house if you ever came near me again,” the other shouted back.
Simultaneously, they grabbed one another by the collar. They growled and huffed as they grappled in the most pathetic display of fighting Killian had ever seen.
“Gentlemen,” Julian sighed. “Do behave, would you?”
The two men let go of one another and dropped their hands to their sides. “I’ll behave as long as he does,” scoffed the one on the left.
“Me? You’re the one who started it.”
“You started it eight years ago when you stole my phoenix replica.”
“I told you, I never—”
“Gentlemen,” Julian said again, more forcefully this time. “Have a seat at the table before I disinvite both of you.”
The one on the right smoothed his shirtfront as he strutted past his brother, making a grand display out of being the bigger person. The other one waited a moment before following, as if the air his brother had walked through was tainted.
They both proceeded to take in the room and its occupants. Their gazes flitted on Killian for a moment before landing on something behind him.
“Hello, Elyse,” one called. “I didn’t see you behind that behemoth.”
Killian frowned, realizing he was the “behemoth.”
“I heard you were on the run,” the other continued. “Wanted in regard to King Cyril’s murder.” He posed it as a question, lifting his brows.
