Beside Princess Iente was her sister Aelwe, who looked surprisingly unremarkable and as bored as Iente was excited. On the far side of the Graavinda, a little apart from the women, a young man stood with his arms folded. Tyr had never seen him before, but figured this must be Prince Arthodt. Not only did his golden sword hilt and splendid clothes give him away, but he had his mother’s square jaw and his father’s deep frowning eyes set above high cheeks. Long, thick hair of no particular colour or style hung about his face and he affected not one but two large jewelled earrings. Jarthastra’s thought and intelligence did not appear on his features and the Prince’s wide, slanted mouth had no sign of Lady Iera’s strength. He had seen around twenty-five summers, Tyr thought, but he did not know
