His face was worn and tired--similar to the old men I'd met in my time with Alianor. It was sort of an ashy gray, the color of an owl's gray pelt. Well, I suppose that's a bit of an exaggeration. It wasn't gray. But it was completely devoid of color--or emotion for that matter.
His hair was not the sleek and golden color that I remembered. It was a dull, dusty color.
But worst of all were those eyes. So many people--particularly infatuated women--had described the eyes of the prince of Idari. A beautiful sea-green, they'd told Alianor. But now? They were a dull and weary green, like a swamp.
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