Baldwin looked at Morcant's body for perhaps two seconds.
Something crossed his face while he did it and was gone before it finished forming, filed away somewhere for a day that was not this one. Then he looked back at his brother, and did not look at the corpse again.
Raymond had stopped bleeding from the shoulder mostly because there was not much left to come out of it. His side was open under the plate where Morcant's second cut had gone through, his sword was still red to the crossguard, and he was breathing like a man who had been fighting for an hour, which he had.
None of that was in his face. His jaw had locked, his grip had resettled, and he had stopped looking at anything on that field that was not his brother.
They spoke, briefly, and James caught most of it between guards.
