There had never been a doubt in his mind. It went without saying, nothing could be more certain. He had accepted this certainty as fact, and he was happy with it. This was his way of life.
Xander was the second son of the powerful Ravenscroft household. His was a clan of warriors. Many noble houses were like that, after all—this was a might-makes-right world, and Doom was their goddess.
He had been sure his brother would be the head of the family when the time came. How could he ever doubt that?
Godric was talented, strong, and kind. He had the makings of a leader. He was flawless, a man of honor.
Xander had always looked up to him as his ideal... the ideal, one everyone should strive to be.
This noble knight.
How could he accept this... how could he accept this outcome?
His brother was dead. Xander's heart was bathed with grief and rage—both feelings so overpowering they swallowed him whole.
