(JASPER'S POV)
He was tall — taller than I remembered, though of course he was, centuries had passed — with White hair falling into his face and those winter-sky eyes burning silver-blue. Broad-shouldered. Scarred. Grown. 'Grown up', my baby brother, grown into a man while I wasn't watching, while I was off chasing crystals and running from my own death.
My brother. My son. My Roland.
"Roland," I breathed. The name came out cracked, nothing like the flippant drawl I'd used on Blue's people. It came out like something torn from the middle of me.
He looked up.
And his face — his beautiful, familiar, grown up face — twisted into something I had never seen on him before. Rage. Pure, unfiltered, white-hot rage.
"Jasper?"
The way he said my name — it wasn't a greeting. It was an accusation.
