Sorcha told me much later how it happened. Falynn refused. Nothing could move him. The already-bad blood between him and Dirva grew poisonous after that. It was Dirva’s mother who brought Nuri the peace he’d asked for. She consulted with Falynn’s teacher, who gave her herbs and instructions. They were Semadran herbs culled from magical plants grown by the City’s blue elves, and their properties had been heightened by the proximity of the Pet. The instructions were for her to brew the old man two cups of tea: one to soothe him and ease him into sleep, and the other to gently stop his heart.

Sorcha told me Nuri asked to speak with each family member alone. They went into his room one after another, and Dirva went in last and had the most time with him. Then, Nuri asked the family to come in. He wanted to see them together. Dirva’s father, weeping, crawled into the bed with him. Dirva’s mother brewed the tea, and Dirva held the cup steady to help his da drink it. And then they waited. Sorcha said it didn’t take long, and that it was quiet and peaceful, but that it was still hard anyway. Falynn was the first to speak the red elvish mourning words. Sorcha repeated them and left immediately after.

I don’t know how long Liro had to wait before Dirva came out of that apartment. I don’t know what he was like in the days to follow. Dirva never spoke of it to me. I knew him well, though, and there were times in the years after where the unfathomable well of loss he carried from this threatened to drag me under. All I know was that Dirva stayed with Liro in the days immediately after, and that it was Liro who slowly coaxed him back from the jaws of grief. Dirva had Liro, he had no one else, and it was then that I began to understand that the things we need from others make their own kind of sense, have their own logic, create their own legitimacy regardless of what we’ve been taught. If he hadn’t had Liro, I am not sure Dirva would have been able to patch himself back together.