"Where the fuck is he?" Isabella hissed under her breath, lips pressed into a flat, annoyed line as her eyes scanned the crooked courtyard like a predator on the edge of pouncing.
The palace—if one could even call it that—was more of a glorified stone carcass than a marvel of architecture. Sunlight spilled across cracked stone slabs that lined the ground unevenly, some shifted, others chipped, as if the earth itself had grown tired of keeping things straight. The walls were a patchwork of pale stone, some still rough and grainy like they'd been yanked from the mountain just yesterday. In certain spots, moss crept between the gaps like nature was politely trying to reclaim what had been taken.
