A chill spears through him and he finds there is still murder in his heart after all, after everything, because he would like nothing more than to ride to whatever is left of Hambry and put Susan's Aunt Cord and everyone else who followed the witch to the sword. His arms tighten around her before he consciously gentles them, unwilling for her to feel anything but his warmth and steadiness.

Surely she's had enough anger and hate, enough to last a lifetime and more. He'll not indulge in it while he holds her and tries to comfort her. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "You deserved better. I don't know why she hated you so or why she must have hated her own brother, but that was her failing and not yours."