The question of who he was died in Eris's throat, but the man, this mountain of a man in a threadbare tunic, did not miss the shape of it. He watched the realization flicker across her face with the quiet satisfaction of a scholar watching a complex formula resolve itself.
"Pardon my rudeness," he said, inclining his head with a courtly grace that felt jarring against his worn traveling clothes. It was the gesture of a man who had moved through throne rooms long before the current dynasty was even a whisper in the dark. "My name is Aldwin. I served under Emperor Soreth. Before I chose not to."
Eris went very still. The name Aldwin didn't just ring a bell; it pulled a specific, leather-bound file from the archives of her memory. Months ago, in the early, frantic days of her arrival, she had spent her nights reading the history of Nevareth's court—the names of those who stayed and the shadows of those who left.
