Darrow unbuckled the sword at his side and extended it to Aedion. Silence began to ripple through the hall at the sight of the sword—Aedion’s sword. The Sword of Orynth. Darrow held it between them, the ancient bone pommel gleaming. “Terrasen is your home.” Aedion’s haggard face remained unmoved. “It has been since the day I arrived here.” “I know,” Darrow said, gazing at the sword. “And you have defended it far more than any natural-born son would ever be expected to. Beyond what anyone might ever reasonably be asked to give. You have done so without complaint, without fear, and have served
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