“You hurt my son because you lost control of your ley line.” I can’t tell if she’s processing the information or genuinely angry. “Yes,” I whisper. Roark’s eyes are pale and I’ve grown used to their weight on me. Mab’s eyes are dark, iris and pupil nearly indistinguishable, and her gaze is as timeless as the winter sky. “Why would you presume to control it at all?”
