Lord Rhaegal was seated in his office, cloaked in silence and deep thought, when the door was unceremoniously pushed open. Lord Reinhard strode in without waiting for permission, arrogance clinging to him like perfume.
"It's good to see you, Rhaegal Blackthorn," he said, his tone a blend of mockery and condescension.
Rhaegal lifted his gaze slowly. Upon recognizing the intruder, a frown creased his face. "What hole did you crawl out of?" he asked, deadpan.
Reinhard smirked. "Who knows? Might've been the same one you were buried in."
"Cute," Rhaegal drawled with a slow nod. "You must really miss me if you're fantasizing about graves."
The two men exchanged razor-sharp glares. Their mutual hostility was no secret within the realm. Yet, aside from verbal jabs laced with venom, neither had dared to cross the final line. Rhaegal knew Reinhard's malice ran deep, but so long as he stayed in his lane, Rhaegal would keep his claws sheathed.
