Chapter 9: Dirty armor.

MUD SPLATTERED OFF his boots as Render raced onto the Dagerstanteen ship. He was late. So late.

As Render shoved the purple drape to the side, he tossed himself into the room. Toren glanced up as he entered. The monk sat on the floor near the window with an open book in his lap. A smile tipped his lips. Render glared. He’d better not say a word.

Panting, Render’s eyes zeroed in on Daris. The next king sat in a Nebos chair near the foot of his bed. Daris had his feet propped up. The alien held a glass plate in his tentacles.

“Sorry, I—”

“Collect yourself.” Daris didn’t even glance up at his flying entrance.

Render slowed his breathing and placed his hands behind his back. He prepared himself for the reprimand. It was midmorning. His eyes flipped to the bright light streaming in from the big windows.