Graynelore

‘Iccara, my beloved brother: ever the diplomat and defender of the grayne.’ Still held fast, Norda stiffened resolutely. ‘How he always looks out for the best interests of his family.’

‘Enough! There is no room for negotiation here.’ Iccara raised his arm. His sister’s sarcasm had not gone unnoticed. He lifted her off her feet by her hair. ‘I will not ask you again. Nor, I fear, will they…’

Norda fought back. She tore herself free of her brother’s grip, leaving a clump of red hair in his clenched fist. The pain drew tears. She blinked, pushed them away with the back of her hand. Her eyes were searching elsewhere.

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