Their eyes met, and Ramar couldn’t conceal a sharp intake of breath. Shredded flesh and scar tissure surrounded the outer corner of a milky left eye. Jhendayre’s eyes were still the color of the storm outside, except he could see the steel resolve underneath them. Harsh pain or difficult choices hardened eyes like that.

He gave the impression that he was watching everything. Ramar knew that wasn’t true unless his student had undergone changes on a fundamental level. Jhendayre didn’t see, he thought. He was always thinking. It was one of the reasons their paths had diverged and why he’d needed of other masters.

Ramar dropped his eyes away and followed the noble nose that hung over thin lips that had always seemed to resist smiling. Humor had seemed to escape him as child and that had apparently followed him into adulthood. It was understandable with his family but it was disappointing. Humorless soldiers made poor companions, as Ramar knew well, the Fields of Frozen Blood had been particularly grueling.