Quinn couldn't take his eyes from the man who stood a small distance from him, his pair of silver eyes the only thing shining from the shadows that covered his face. He moved a hand, pulling the cloak off in a single swipe — giving Quinn enough chance to recognize his face. It was Damien. Damien Aniston.
The Paladin.
The first thing that crept into his mind were the memories, carrying him back to the Selection. He remembered how they fought, though it was never enough to bruise his cheek or throw him hard on the ground. But now, here he was, still wearing that cool that always spoke of superiority.
Damien's eyes flickered with recognition. A slow, lazy grin spread across his face as he scratched his chin, head tilting to one side. "You must be the kid I fought during the Selections?"
Quinn rubbed the back of his neck, his jaw tense. "Yeah."
