The firelight flickered and gleamed off her glassy eyes and stony face; for all her stillness, she could have been an ivory statue. She should be smiling, he thought, her eyes sparkling as she bounced after Ser Ailen.
It just wasn't natural for her to be like this...
His eyes returned to the funerary pyre that glowed against the evening dusk as it consumed Ser Ailen's body. What had been left, anyway. The elder knights had made certain that neither of them could see him when he had been brought back to the Citadel, but he'd heard the talk.
The cloying incense hanging in the air mingled with of scent of the body burning; the crackle of flames blended with the chanting of the monks and singing of the novices. Gloved hands curled into fists by his side as he thought about how it would be up to him now.
To avenge Ser Ailen.
To protect Caren.
What he didn't know was that while he stared at the fire, as much consumed by his own grief as Ser Ailen's body was by the flames, was that her posture had stiffened and glassy eyes had become sharp.
Focused.
Determined.
And he would have known what that meant:
Caren would avenge her father herself.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
The Blue Monk
FantasiaA World of Korth Novel When the only man young Caren knows as a father was murdered and none of his compatriots sought to avenge him, the young Acolyte of the Order of the Blue Lady breaks away from the pacifist beliefs she has held her entire life...
