Pronunciation: Laran Vethne
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Brown
Motto: It’s good to be king
Desires: To wine and wench
Weapon of Choice: Army
Description: My father had a visage no potter or bronze-worker could cast. Only the stone-carvers in the south could mimic the sharp planes chiseled in his hard, broad face. His plump lips, seldom smiling, were the sole softness. Smirk or frown or pout, their inconstant curves unmasked his decadent and changeable nature even better than his eyes. Lax and parted with his panting, they twisted in a bitter grimace and tightened when he saw me.
Discussion Questions For Laran?
- What do you think of Laran?
- Do you have a favorite scene?
- What’s your best-loved quote?
- Why is Laran so cold towards Leures?
- How else could Leures have gotten Laran’s help?
I wiped my eyes and kept staring up at him–waiting for the break in his long silence. Knowing my voice alone might doom me, I said nothing. I hoped he would speak tenderly of Ati, telling me how she captivated him; praise her beauty, her goodness, and all the small details that made her special. I wanted him to promise he would see she had a fine funeral. But his silence stretched on, only the softening of his clenched jaw and the shifting of his eyes hinting at gentler emotion. He cleared his throat and shouted for the guards. “Take this slave to Cletuns at the mines,” he ordered them. “Tell him to make whatever use of him he can.” “Apa?” I planted my feet and fought to stay in front of the throne. “I don’t belong in the mines. I’m Aplu’s. You can’t take me from the gods.” The king turned his head away, staring out the open courtyard door on the room’s far side as the guards dragged me from the throne room.GATES THE HOURS KEEP