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    Summary

    “I meant no offense–” Daeron’s voice had risen, pitchy and childish, but he collects it now; his hands are clasped on the table, picking absently at the torn nail of his thumb. A boyhood habit, one Gwayne thought him beyond. “My lord, I meant only it was a, a shock.”
    “How many times must I say you may dispense with formalities?” Ormund’s smile has received a fixed quality, a frozen malice. As children that smile meant run while you can: run, or harden yourself to take the beating.

    Ormund has returned from a tour of the Reach with his new wife. Gwayne and Daeron are reminded of their places.

    Language:
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