Adrianna spun, heart hammering, as the voice floated toward her.
From the shadows, a figure stepped into the flickering torchlight.
He was tall — unnervingly tall — with sleek black hair pulled back from a sharp, angular face. His crimson eyes gleamed with amused cruelty, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his pale lips. He was dressed in all black, his coat lined with silver trim, long fingers resting lazily on the hilt of a slender sword at his hip.
"Well, well," he murmured, his voice like silk sliding over steel. "What do we have here? The little hunter, all alone in the Queen's house."
Adrianna's breath caught, her back tensing. She raised her daggers, feet sliding into a ready stance. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded, forcing the tremor out of her voice.
