It’s time for another clip from Radiq. To check out was has gone before, click here.
Vadim, as if aware of Radiq’s scrutiny, turned to scan the room, and their eyes met. That oh-so-familiar tightness clenched Radiq’s chest, and he forced himself not to turn away while forcing his lungs to pull air. A nod and an elegantly raised eyebrow, and Vadim returned his attention to the fat cow who ruled Corusq.
The music droned its way to silence; the dancers applauded politely as they returned to their seats. Darvos raised his goblet, and old Borsha thumped his staff on the tiles, silencing the murmur of conversation.
Gods damned! Retreat from the hall was now impossible.
“Honored guests, friends, and family,” Darvos’ voice boomed across the space as he glanced along the high table. Dozing guests were elbowed awake—it wouldn’t do to sleep through the King’s speech—and Radiq settled against a pillar; Darvos was well-known for lengthy and rambling perorations. “Let us raise our cups to toast the bright future of our countries.”
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