King Machenos was a tall man with a hard, leathery face and a scowl permanently etched upon his features. He might at one time have been called handsome, but his scowl and the scar running down his face from his right eye to the corner of his mouth gave him a sinister appearance. The scar he had gained in battle and could not help—but the scowl he had developed for many years on his own, and could blame on no one but himself.
“Explain this intrusion on my council of state!” he bellowed when he saw the strangers enter. “No one may interrupt the king and his advisers.”
“Your Majesty, were it not so desperate a situation, we would not have chosen to do so,” Prince Ahmad said, stepping forward. “Only the current emergency made us prevail so upon your guards.”
King Machenos snorted. “My form
