King Elk Forest He is not one of us.

something about the way the woman wren held the darkgold of her pretty shoulders, a detail germanicus filed into his growing codex of suspects. king célnes was a progressive within her own religion, which set her apart from the rest of her clan. they were far more devout in their traditionalism than the regent who held his contract, and each time she pressed through the expectations of their faith, a new enemy showed itself.

but wren was not one of their kith. and so germanicus knew she had expected this spectacle perhaps even less than he. 

célnes, speaking aloud; he fought the urge to shift his weight in dismay and held himself upon a tight rein. so she had not forgotten. so she had named him without naming him; outsider. and that he was, and was proud to be. he must weigh now the shame of breaking their contract before it was ended, or assuming a guise he did not feel for the privilege of remaining in her esteem.

and now he possessed something worth the wintertime strife, and protecting célnes through it: the knowledge that he must prove calhoun's claim that he would be gone in when the sun returned.