The Rook straightened slowly. Even close enough to touch, she could make out almost nothing through the darkness of his hood. The deeper shadows of his eyes, the line of his jaw; like the stars, she saw more when she didn’t look directly. Then a glimmer of a smile came into view. In two hundred years, no one had unmasked Nadežra’s outlaw. Seeing him now, Ren was certain the hood was imbued to hide his face. The Rook could have been anyone: old or young, Liganti or Vraszenian or Nadežran. His voice sounded masculine, but who knew where the magic ended?
