Rowan instantly hated the man's white robes and fancy belt. So what if he looked like fresh snow with eyes like ice. So what if he was a priest of the Order. That didn't make him important at all.
The only people important to Rowan were in this house before the visitor arrived.
The man's face paled as his gaze landed on Rowan's mother, who lay on the ground as if frozen in place. Rowan didn't want him looking at her with his cold, blue eyes, so he hurried to stand in front of her. More tears streamed down his face even though he tried to keep them in.
Now that he'd felt Death, he recognized it right away, and he could sense it reaching out to him from his mother's unmoving body.
She'd only woken up long enough to tell him not to be afraid. Now she was gone, too.
Rowan stared up at the visitor, still feeling like he was right to hate him even though he'd never met him.
