She wiped the blood away as best she could and pushed the tangle of his burnished copper hair where it stuck to his face. Though he was fair skinned t... begin with, now his skin looked drained of all color entirely, taking on a sallow and sickly appearance. “Gods…oh gods, no,” Silmaria whimpered. Blood was already spreading, soaking into the thick layers of his heavy tunic, an ever expanding stain of life and death, one and the same and so very different. His breathing was labored and he was. Clint stood up from his place at the head of the table. He was tall, strong, filling out to his father’s powerful build. Clinton had educated our son, rearing him to be the master of his sisters. My husband never touched his daughters, not even when sixteen-year-old Zoey tried to seduce him. He wanted them all for his son. So he made sure Clint knew how to act, how to handle his women, how to take care of them. I doubt Clint ever realized his father’s true goal.“You would be so proud of him,” I. More

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