‘Lysaer, come forward and remove your hood.’ The barbarian gave way to blind outrage. ‘The next man who speaks or moves will wind up butchered on my signal!’ ‘Not so easily,’ rebutted the one who stepped forth, a figure muffled in ordinary wool, whose fingers bore neither ring nor ornament as he slipped off his gloves and raised his hands; but a man so unconsciously sure of his position that every clansman present paused to stare. Dark cloth slipped back to reveal honey-gold hair, blue eyes still glacial with fury and features that reflected a bloodline not seen in Camris for centuries, but
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