“Your Eminence,” they murmured. I had to peer around the back of my chair—it was too high for me to see over it—and saw Killian at the door, studying the pile of weapons Josh routinely left there whenever sitting down for dinner. “What do you need, Your Eminence?” Celestina asked. “Nothing.” Killian’s eyes were their usual shade of dark obsidian, but his mask of cold arrogance seemed a little cracked as he looked up and down the massive table. “I…nothing.”
