The sound of hooves and metal mingled with the low murmur of the knights, but the silence between Damon and Harn weighed like steel about to break.
The blond man had already passed the group, and his horse was beginning to resume its trot when he heard the distinct sound of a sword being unsheathed.
The sound echoed like contained thunder.
"Repeat what you said."
Harn's voice carried a cold, almost offended fury—the kind of anger that stems more from wounded pride than from duty.
Damon didn't turn immediately. He simply pulled on the reins and let his horse turn slowly. The look he gave the knight was one of provocative tranquility.
"I said you ask too many questions."
A murmur ran through the soldiers. Some took a step back. The veteran, who was still watching the carriage, raised his face with a sigh—he already knew what was coming, and he also knew it was too late to stop it.
Harn advanced, sword in hand.
