(The following is from chapter 5, when Collie attempts to protect a young orphan from the theft of his father's property.)
When we enter the tower house, Morgan is leaning a broad shoulder up against the stone wall by the bailey's iron door, lazily picking at his fingernails. Again, I catch myself quietly fancying his appearance, enhanced by wind-mussed hair and dusty leather. Dannon rests his backside against the table, arms crossed. And Kestra is pacing near a turret doorway, his shuffling footsteps sweeping the stone floor. No one is speaking, but all scowl, looking at me as I walk in as if I'm carrying the pox or something.
My puckered belly's full of butterflies as I lead Natt to the center of the room. There's dust upon the two brothers' leather boots, their shirts damp with sweat. Apparently Kestra wasted no time with the two men's return, wanting the salt back. I glance back at Thoren who looks over to Morgan as he makes his way into the room.
Dannon doesn't even bother standing up, just keeps resting his backside against the table, arms folded across his broad chest. His wrists are bound with leather cuffs, like Morgan's, though his only sport the red chevron of the Tillaman monarch...Gray eyes are sharp...His mustache keeps motion with his lips...There's no denying Dannon can be an intimidating man. A man who knows how to be in charge and stay there. A man feared even by his own brother, and one certainly feared by me.
