Yet William spoke as calmly as he could, though his body betrayed the struggle. He was gritting his teeth and enduring such insane pressure that the veins on his forehead and neck popped up, straining against the invisible weight of a Dark Gold master's will.
"Not grade three?" the Fourth Elder repeated, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low hum. "Are you even doubting the assessment done by our patriarch? Are you suggesting that the man who has led this clan through a dozen wars cannot recognize the size of a threat at his own front door?"
"Can I regain my freedom and get a chance to explain things to the Elder?" William gasped out. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk if this crazy Elder kept pressuring him like this. He felt as if his lungs were being crushed by iron bands.
To convince a man like this, he needed to speak with clarity and logic, and he couldn't do that while fighting to keep his bones from snapping.
