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"You threw me out of your hall! Tell me why I should not have you thrown out right this minute!"
Answers to this bounded plentifully into Thornden’s mind, but he kept his mouth firmly clamped shut. He stared down at Faramund and waited for his final word. It came in a burst of rage. “Get out of here! Give your words to your lord! Go!”
Thornden did not even incline his head in the slightest hint of a bow. He turned on his heel and went out, shouldering his way through the men standing there. He strode across the courtyard to where Athanar stood on the steps speaking with Stedford. As he drew near, Faramund’s steward was sent away.
“Lord Athanar, Faramund wishes me to tell you that he will defend what is his and he will fight you if you continue to press him. He demands that you stop trying to trap him and he asks that you send me back with word that you will no longer threaten him. This is what he said when I advised him against arming his men and pitting them against you.”
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