Richard was mad.
How on Earth had he managed to get the wrong man?
How had he, Richard, The King, The Warrior, managed to get someone without even a single ounce of magical talent.
Next to him, a chair exploded.
Wooden shrapnel stung his skin, but he didn't care. With three quick breaths, the King was once again composed.
After all, this wasn't a total loss, the spell was sound, and he still had a connection with this meek and powerless fool known as Reid.
He could still watch them, he could still listen.
But first, Spencer Reid was going to have to pay.