The arena should have calmed after Donovan's disqualification, but it didn't.
If anything, the atmosphere became more volatile.
The spectators were not watching a trial anymore. They were watching a powder keg.
And Donovan Young had just thrown another torch onto it.
The Drevlorn noble stood among his companions near the edge of the arena floor.
The swelling on his chiseled face had not faded. Neither had the humiliation.
The crowd continued to boo him whenever his name was mentioned.
Candidates openly mocked him.
Even some instructors looked at him with disappointment.
To Donovan, it felt unbearable.
He had arrived in Bentram expecting admiration, respect, and fear.
Instead, he had become a laughingstock, and he hated every second of it.
His eyes drifted across the arena, thousands of faces, thousands of people who believed they had the right to judge him.
The thought disgusted him. Then his gaze found Thane.
The giant was laughing about something with Sky and Rimon.
