"No," she whispered hoarsely. His mind was in hers, verifying the fact.
"Have you ever met my father, Phaen, the old Count of Tharn?"
"No."
"Do you have a son?"
"No."
His mind was out of hers again, and he had turned moodily back, surveying the courtyard and the dead. "Gorph will be wondering what happened to you. Come to my quarters at the eighth metron tonight."
Apparently he suspected nothing.
Father. Father. I had to do it. But we'll all join you, soon. Soon.
III