By the end of the summer, Gwion was furious at the entire world. It was bad enough that they were war-captives — all right, to be fair, it was pretty much worst of all that they were war-captives, because all the rest of the trouble stemmed from that. But what frustrated him most of all lately was his brother.

They’d always been identical. He’d thought they always would be identical — somehow he’d never thought about the fact that they were going to war, that one of them could have been scarred. But neither of them had been, and anyway, scarring wasn’t much of a problem. A scar would have been easier to hide — or to fake.