"However, one of them concerns me."
The man's hairless brows rose in surprise.
His empty sockets remained directed toward her face, and the woman found herself regretting the admission before she had finished considering it.
"The young man who spoke for them," she added. "His strength is unremarkable compared with ours, but there is something about him."
"Something?"
"I intend to let the master judge for herself."
The young man watched her for a moment longer, then lowered his eyelids again.
With those terrible hollows concealed, his face recovered its deceptive serenity, though the smile at his lips had become more pronounced.
"Then I suppose I should let you continue."
He stepped past her, close enough that the edge of her sleeve brushed his ink-covered arm. His skin was cold, like the cold of winter.
Calling it as cold as a corpse was doing it an injustice. The woman turned slightly as he began descending.
"Were you with the master?"
