When Ophel's company have given their report, he dismisses them, and the General, and his son, and Garrett from a chamber of his own house, and sits heavily down in a chair.
"Ophel."
Ophel falls deathly silent.
Oh.
Perhaps he is mistaken. Perhaps he is reading too much into this.
His gut tells him otherwise.
He cannot possibly mean what Voltur just for a moment hoped he meant.
"I am - glad." He tries a smile.
"I always do." The fear for Ophel is creeping back in again. "I have done so all my life. Survival is a matter of habit."
“Good.”
I cannot lose you again.
”I should retire for the night. If I do not go now, I will sleep through our departure in the morning.”
Almost a year of this, and it remains no less daunting.
"Sleep well."
He waits until he hears Ophel's footsteps fade away before he lets the tears fall.