Straightening in spite of the weight of his shackles, shrugging off the hands of the guards who flanked him, Jarl Corvett met the seething hostility of their glances with stiff-necked defiance. But underneath, questions nagged him: Why am I here? Who ordered me brought to this banquet?
But here he stood. That was what counted. Boldly, he surveyed the room ... stared unflinching across at the commissioner.
A handsome man, Commissioner rey Gundre. Heavy-bodied and aging, in these later days. But still personable, still a figure to catch the eye, even slack-faced and slouched in his seat as now.
He was a man of Earth, plainly, with all the strengths and weaknesses and surging conflicts that went with that heritage. The sunburst insignia of his rank stood out against the deep blue of his impeccably tailored uniform. The white blaze that accented the darkness of his hair only made him the more striking.
His aide sat at his left hand, Ylana at his right.
Ylana the golden, daughter of the high commissioner himself.
And Jarl Corvett's nemesis.
Even looking at her here, Jarl could feel the muscles at the hinges of his jaws draw tight.
Tonight she sat slim and graceful at the banquet table in a scarlet stylon gown. Her blonde hair swept up in a soft golden nimbus like that of Tal Neeni, sea goddess of Callisto. The red lips were smiling, the grey eyes asparkle.
Yet even when she laughed, some dark inner mood seemed to shadow her beauty, even as it had last night while she lay asleep.