Eventually, the guards managed to wrangle the straining figure to the front of the throne room, where they forced him to his knees. Dark waves tumbled into the Fae male’s face. Dressed all in black, his shoulders were drawn up around his pointed ears. His chest rose and fell with the sawing of his breath. Tattoos writhed and shifted like smoke across every patch of visible skin, creeping up the back of his neck and swirling over the backs of his hands. It was Death.
