46
Langenacht
Oldwin hovered behind Eoghan as they regarded the young king’s reflection in the looking glass. Oldwin had stopped pretending. His eyes conveyed his disdain, his smile no longer sufficient to perform the job intended. It was Eoghan now who feigned joy; who was desperate to convince the sorcerer that he could be agreeable.
How had it all changed? Eoghan asked this question of himself, of Correen, but the effort was needless, for it had never changed at all. He had never held any sway over the sorcerer, not even when the creature stood before him in chains, pathetic, awaiting freedom. The chains had never been enough to hold him. The cell was only the set of a playactor, awaiting his big scene.
Eoghan had no allies to consult. Oldwin had taken them before he could find them
