The pain dug at him, threatening to kill him there and then. He was almost dragged down by it. But it was the very enemy that had inflicted that pain that gave him the lifeline. As grief threatened to drown him, the embers of anger lit themselves with a powerful rebelliousness.
Oliver had never known such rage.
Not when the Yarmdon had attacked his village.
Not when the King had tried to see him hung, for the very assassination attempt that he had been the cause of.
Nor even when Dominus had been killed.
All those times, there was an excuse. 'I'm not strong enough yet,' Oliver had thought. He'd been able to cling to that hope, that one day, his strength would set him beyond such means.
