“Your Majesty!” Lord Juri hurried to the King and slid an arm around his waist. “You shouldn't have gotten out of bed.”
“I'm fine,” the King muttered. “If this man is about to risk his life for me, he deserves to know why.” He lifted his head and met my stare.
The King didn't flinch at the color of my eyes, nor did I flinch at the state of him. His eyes were green, a vibrant shade like newborn leaves. But that was the only vibrancy about him. Dark shadows lurked beneath those beautiful eyes, his cheeks were sunken under their high, sharp bones, and his lips were pale, nearly as pale as his skin. He looked so terrible that I doubted the color of my eyes even registered with him, much less why they were unusual. So my composure was more impressive than his.
“Your Majesty.” I bowed. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“Thank you for coming,” the Dragon King said as Lord Juri helped him to a chair. Groaning, the King sat back, then wanly waved at us. “Sit down. Please.”
“What has happened to you, Sire?” I asked as I sat down. Then I did something I rarely do among strangers. I pulled back my hood.
The King finally showed some surprise at that, lifting his brows as a soft smile came to his cracked lips. His gaze skittered over my face before he asked, “What's your name?”
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” the Commander hurried to say. “I should have introduced him.”
“I'm Ru'din of the Midnight Clan,” I said as the Commander stammered. “But you can call me Ru.”
“Ru,” the King murmured. “I like it. It has flair and a hint of danger.”
“Thank you. You've perfectly described me.”
The King chuckled, then wheezed.
“Sire!” Lord Juri jumped to his feet.
“Oh, sit the fuck down, Juri,” the King said. “I'm not dying this very second.”
Juri sat the fuck down.
With a sigh, the King looked at me. “I've been poisoned.”
“Poisoned? Shit.”
“Yes.” He chuckled again. “Shit indeed. The good news is that my physician has consulted with my dread's most powerful mage, and they have discovered what was used to poison me. It's a rare toxin called xurasin. Have you heard of it?”
“No. I'm a thief, not an assassin.”
King Cynric nodded. “It's rare. It's found only in the shells of tisse beetles, and they are found only in the densest regions of forests. Fortunately, there is a cure. Unfortunately, the key ingredient is difficult to acquire—fur from the belly of a mueyaru.”
I blinked. “Fur? Fur cures poisoning?”
“This particular fur does. The mueyaru inhabit the same region of the forest as the tisse. I suppose the Gods did that on purpose, putting a deadly toxin in the same place as its antidote.”
“But fur? What do you do, rub it on you?”
The King grinned. “I believe a potion must be made from it.”
“All right. So why can't one of your big buff knights go get the fur for you? Why do you need a thief?”
“Because the mueyaru is a ferocious feline who will not simply roll over for them to snip a piece of fur from its belly.”
“I assume the beast will have to be killed.”
“Ah, and that is where my adviser and I differ in opinion,” the King said. “I prefer to not harm the creature.”
I went still. My eyes, narrowed in thought, went slack, widening. Suddenly, his gauntness vanished. The pale skin, the sunken eyes, all of it disappeared. I saw the man beneath the poisoned facade, and he took my breath away. One moment, one sentence, was all it took. I didn't need my shadowform to know this man's intentions. I didn't have to see his aura to know he was good.
“Ru'din?” The King cocked his head.
