"Where is my foe? Where is Reynold Aleese?"
Taghai's demand rolled over the Imperial Box like a millstone, crushing the optimistic mood that had formed in the wake of Erling and Khorijin's conversation and grinding it to dust.
For a moment, it had seemed like the Aleese and Southern Steppe would meet as rivals rather than as sworn enemies. Taghai's statement that he had come to claim heads stripped the civilized veneer away from the contest and exposed the seething animosity beneath it.
"He's standing out in the cold," Wes Iriso said, glaring at the mountain of a man who threatened his friend. "Waiting for someone to stop blocking the door."
"Wes!" Sorcha hissed, her eyes going wide as she watched Taghai's face heat while he directed his scowl toward her husband. "What are you doing?"
"What I can," Wes said, locking eyes with Taghai and refusing to look away as the Long Horned warrior took two steps forward. Wes, however, refused to back down.
