Grey-shot black hair swept back off a face that has been opened and closed again more than once — old scars through the brow and cheek, and a few of the cuts still fresh. Gold in one ear, dulled scale across his shoulders, both hands folded on the grip of a long blade stood upright in front of him. He was plainly unhappy that his king had ridden out hunting.

He was uneasy before anyone brought him news. What does Hugh already know about where Glenys goes?