Davrin watched after the faint motes of light that had been the child, unmoving, letting the heavy weight of the blade in his hand ground him. What had happened, over the years? Davrin doubted Illario knew. The grandmother probably had the most insight- if she were capable of objectively seeing how her own choices dominated her family. He thought of Bellara and her brother. How much a person can change, when you aren't looking for it.

But that was how it was. No use waxing poetic about it or wondering what caused what. It had all happened, whatever the reason. The results had to be delt with now. He sheathed his sword and walking into the smoke.

"I thought that was the last one."