"I miss you."
Eliam was helpless.
He stood in the glowing sand, his son's arms around him, his son's face pressed against his shoulder, and he did not know what to do.
Something was wrong. Perhaps terribly wrong. But what was a father to do when his son did not want to tell him what was wrong?
Eastiel had changed. That was the first thing. He had come back from that school a different person, had insisted on marrying a girl that two other boys were also marrying, had taken over the family's military like they were preparing for the end of the world.
He worked with a focus that was almost frightening, trained soldiers, planned strategies, built defenses for threats that no one else could see.
And he treated Eliam… he treated his father like he was already gone.
Eliam was not dumb. Eastiel's intelligence was inherited from both him and Harriet, sharpened by years of study, honed by the particular intensity that ran through their bloodline.
