Iris was not a mind reader nor a fortune teller but, she roughly guessed that this man beside her had a story of his own. Something that was thoroughly hidden from anyone.
But, whether his past was bloody and torturous or not, it was not a pass for him to treat anyone the way he had done all this time.
Cold, unfeeling and demanding.
The morning breeze blew passing them, gently ruffling the locks of their hair. The leaves above their head let out a rustling sound, followed by the faint echo of the rolling waves of the giant river.
Iris silently contemplated what should she ask now.
Next to her, Asher still had the sullen look that was very accustomed to him. Faint lines of wrinkles formed on his forehead as he was frowning. He kept clasping his hands together.
In the impassiveness showed by the man, there was a trace of uneasiness exuding from him.