he reached out and took my left hand in his. His expression was blank as he studied the runes along my fingers. His brows twitched as he turned my arm this way and that, read the script that chained my wrist. When he ran a finger over the flower-like, larger rune on the back of my hand, his features became utterly unreadable, though. He spent far longer assessing the ink on my right hand. I sat impatiently, thoughts bouncing around all over the place, unable to calm myself.
