I nodded, still silent, my head still bowed as I watched my hands do their work, fingers and palms pressing and digging, as hard as I dared without risking paining him. It had been long since I had felt another's pain as my own, sharp and bright as one of Melisande's flechettes. I hadn't missed it.

I forced myself to speak finally. "I hope that as well. It grieves me to see you hurt." My eyes dragged back up to his, and I wondered not for the first time what he thought of me.