When she failed to respond, he wondered if she was too offended by his appearance to even speak to him. Or was it the shock in seeing that he had lost a hand that kept her silent? Or hadn’t he sounded sincere enough? He had had no call to be mannerly while captive and it felt foreign for him to do so now.
Annoyed she refused to speak to him, he held his temper that was rising and tried to engage her again. “You have been most kind to my clan in my absence.”
Still she gave no response and she didn’t even move. She appeared frozen in place. What did she think he was going to do, attack her? Had his appearance changed that much? Did he look that menacing?
He couldn’t keep his temper from erupting. “Since you find the sight of me to reprehensible to speak with me, then get on your horse and go. And don’t bother to return.” He turned to walk away, anger burning in the pit of his stomach.
“Royden?” the whispery voice asked.
He turned with a scowl at the questionable mention of his name. “Aye, it is me and who is it I know that takes such offense at my appearance?”
The woman raised her hands and pushed the hood off her head, revealing her face.
“Oria.” He nearly roared her name, at least in his head, since it came out more gently, and the fire in his gut burned like the fires of hell when he realized that the woman he loved was wed to another man.