“You’re bleeding,” I said. “Let me.”

“No.” Now it was he who shrank from my touch. “Leave it. It’s of no concern. You asked about my brother. Memory is a strange thing. Simon remembers little of this lost time. Of recent events he has a better recall, which returned to him piece by piece on our slow journey home. Enough to incriminate my uncle many times over.”

“I know,” I said. “When I was—your uncle spoke to me, unguardedly, at some length. He told me many things which he will now regret. He thought…he thought I would not tell you, he thought I would never…”

I could hear Red’s careful breathing, in, out, in, out, as if he could not trust himself to let go.

“My uncle—did he lay a hand on you, when—did he touch you, Jenny? I was prevented from—from—Ben stopped me, but if—”

“It’s all right,” I said with difficulty. “I am not hurt. He said to me, I don’t want my nephew’s leavings. I was not harmed.”

“I’ll kill him,” said Red softly, turning his face away from me.

“You’re a just man, and a fair one,” I said. “These people depend on you; you are the center of their world. Let your anger go, and then judge him. They look to you for their example. It will be easier, when I am gone.”

He turned his head toward me; let me see, for an instant, the deep loneliness of the eyes, the shadows and lines drawn stark on the white skin. How could a man who had so much, be so alone?

“My brother,” his tone was bleak, “has few memories of those lost years. So he says. But wherever it is that you fit in, he will not hear a word against you. I heard him talking to my mother tonight, when we returned. He spoke of you as if—as if of an angel. He said, her hands are the gentlest in the world, and she tells such tales, tales you would not believe, and yet, when she speaks, you know every word is true. He may have forgotten the rest, but you he remembers.”

“I—”

“Ssh,” he said, and he reached out his hand and touched his fingers very gently to my lips to silence my words. “Don’t tell me.” He touched me only for a moment; and yet I fought the urge to put my hand over his, to turn my lips to his palm. I made myself keep very still. Then he took his hand away, and I moved back a step. Unspoken words lay heavy between us. Unspoken words, and unmade gestures. With any other, I would have said farewell with a hug, a kiss, the touch of fingers to cheek, the clasp of hand in hand. With Red, I could do nothing.

“You have a circle,” he said, “that you draw tight around you; John, Ben, these feral brothers of yours. Simon is as fiercely protective as the rest of them, and yet he has little cause to love your kind. But once you touch us, our hearts are no longer our own.”