The leader of the guards stalked across the room and Arrik could feel the woman quivering against him. The man reached his hand over the table toward her cloak. “Let’s have a look at you.”
Quick as a snake, Arrik captured the guard’s wrist in an iron grip. “You will not touch her. She is mine.”
The tavern went deathly silent at his refusal. The guard yanked his arm from Arrik’s grasp. “I don’t know who you are, stranger, but I am Proctor, the leader of Lord Hameon of Gradoc’s elite guards. Stand aside or die.” The man puffed out his chest as he spoke, as if expecting to be immediately obeyed. His comrades were behind him now, six men in total.
Arrik stirred, sliding out of the seat. The other man just stared up at him as he stood to his full seven feet. Raising his hands, he slowly pushed his hood aside, revealing his face for the first time. The other man paled and stumbled back a step.
“I am Arrik Varkas Drakon and the woman is mine.”