"Really?" Constans couldn't help himself, gawking at Aurin like a curiosity; something a bit unpleasant maybe, but fascinating, like a two-headed snake. "You mean here, in the tower?"
A piece clicked into place in Constans' mind, and his anger flared up white-hot. The child of mages, two mages, and this boy had no powers at all? Hidden behind Constans' back his hands dug into his forearms, the flesh beneath his fingertips turning white. He lived in a world where the son of a Bann could be born a mage and the son of mages could be free, and the enormity of this staggered him. His was a world with no justice.
Seething, Constans could not hold back the impulse to apply a little poison to his normally silver tongue. "Did the Templars kill them for having you?"