Caspian stares at him, drinks and fireside forgotten.

"He left her to die."

It's not quite a question, but neither is it a statement of certainty. There's a curious, carefully controlled rage that's beginning to unfurl in his stomach, as far from the way he'd felt only moments ago beyond the door as anything in his life. It feels very like the shock and fury that nearly drove him mad the day Drinian came to him –

(by my silence I have destroyed your son)

– and his hand curls into a tight fist on the bar-top.