Asag's horse whinnied with an impatient toss of its head, as eager as its rider to be clear of such foul company. Normally, the Legate would have been of the same mind, ready to leave the stench of perfume behind.
But how could he leave now? Not when he had stumbled onto something so deliciously interesting.
They said curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.
"Your Grace," Asag mused, tilting his head and slowly turning his stallion. He moved with a wince, careful not to strain his neck, he was already half-maimed, and his wrist throbbed with a rhythmic, sickening heat that made him wish indeed for a quick end. But the pain was a small price for the revelation dawning on him. "For what reason, pray, do I hear so much anxiety in that royal breath of yours?"
