Loreen's POV
Sairis sat with his hands folded in his lap and stared at the white cloth.
Loreen watched him. "Are you alright?" he asked. His voice was barely above a whisper.
Sairis did not answer immediately. He swallowed. "She was so young," he said finally. "That is all I keep thinking. She was so young and she did not deserve any of what happened to her."
Loreen said nothing. There was nothing useful to say to that.
"She was kind," Sairis continued. His voice was quieter now, more careful, like he was handling the words gently. "When I met her. She did not have to be. She could have been difficult or cold or threatened. But she was kind." He paused. "I have not forgotten that."
Loreen reached over and covered Sairis's folded hands with his own.
Sairis looked down at it. Then he turned his hand over and held on.
They sat like that while the hall began to settle around them and Lady Taal's quiet weeping filled the spaces between the candlelight and the stone.
