In this opening scene, the Vhalgenn returns home after a long time away.
Excerpt from The Last Vhalgenn
In the private receiving chamber, I knelt before the king I hadn't seen in over two years, an ache in my knees and groin and back that four hours ahorse had burned into my muscle; and delivered the news of victorious battle I'd been dispatched to bring. When I finished, the sovereign master of Qarth and Kellindahr leaned back his tawny, lion-maned head to regard me with heavy lidded eyes.
I couldn't believe the luck of having caught Orix awake so late. He'd always been one to turn in early. Soft, his father used to say. I knew it for his love of bed play. My throat tightened with pleasure at the thought and I had to swallow, hard, to force it away. That we were alone amazed me even more. But war has a way of loosening rules, even in Qarth.
A wartime's ransom of jewels glittered on his hands as he reached for a bowl of golden Kellindahrii apples beside him. He bit into one and chewed.
I waited until the apple reached his smiling mouth again, and then I rose, moved to kneel between his outstretched legs, and closed my callused hand around his be-ringed one to bring the fruit to my own lips. Meeting his gaze, I bit into the same place his teeth had torn and wiped my mouth with the back of a dusty hand.
Orix laughed. "Ah, Raik. You've not changed a whit." He ran his gaze over me, then frowned and moved a candlestick closer to peer at me. "Your leathers are ripped." He traced the slash a scrim saber had made the night before. The blue gaze bored into mine. "Were you hurt?"
Despite my protest to the contrary, he insisted on making sure of my health and untied the bindings of my doublet. Beneath the black leather lay a now sweat-soaked blouse of emerald Qarthian silk, the same color as his standard, which my youngest brother had borne into battle the night before. The silk had been the king's gift the year before on my birthday: green that matched my eyes. His color marked me as Orix's as much as my clan's cheek tattoo. The overlapping petals of the flowering Ddumach ivy tangled itself around a diadem, the symbol for Hellesbor, clan name of my sovereign.
"The leather's ruined, Lord. So's the silk."
"No matter." His gaze still held mine. He jerked loose the ties at my throat as if he meant to strip me naked.
Despite the summer's heat, I shivered.
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powerful excerpt – what’s unspoken conveys so much!