“Instead of Eoghan, a tall, whip-thin man stared back at him with barely veiled disdain. “I’m Brother Slaine. Come with me.” Conor grabbed his pack. “Where are we going?” Slaine fixed a steely stare on him. “To the barracks. You may be a prince in Tigh, but here you’re just another novice. You will receive no special treatment.” “I don’t expect any, sir,” Conor said, taken aback by his tone. “And you will not speak unless spoken to. Do you understand?” Conor nodded mutely. Slaine narrowed his ey...es and gestured for Conor to follow him. The brother said nothing on the long descent from Carraigmór, even when Conor slid down several steps on his tailbone and thumped to a stop against his legs. He simply stared at him until he righted himself and then wordlessly continued. Some of Conor’s anxiety faded. Brother Slaine might not be the most pleasant of men, but at least he didn’t seem inclined to comment on Conor’s shortcomings. The village below already bustled with activity.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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