My pulse starts to quiet as Estir leads the boy away, but still I’m finding it hard to breathe. The mother’s cries echo in my head, and her raw grief wrings me dry. It makes no sense. I see illness all the time. Why should this boy affect me so much? But I’m shaking now, and I know that I must get out of this crowd. Lowering my head, I flee to the hospital, sweeping past the front rooms and ducking into a quiet corner where I bury my face in my hands. In my mind’s eye, I hear my own mother’s cries as I moved into my bamboo cottage. I see Alia and Leora clutch each other in their grief. I feel sobs building in my throat, and I hold my breath to keep them in.

“Zivah?” Dineas steps around the corner.

I hastily wipe my eyes. “Dineas, I’m sorry I abandoned you at the gate.”

His eyes flit over my face. “I spoke to the mother. They mourn, but we’ve laid their worst worries to rest.” He steps cautiously closer. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just the usual business of the day tiring me out.”

He frowns. “I may not have your healer’s senses, but I don’t need them when you’re in this state.”

I avoid his eyes. “You’re very kind, but—”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. What kind of friend do you think I am?”

“Friend” is not a word I’d expected to hear in Ampara. It unravels me, and I realize I don’t have the energy to put up more of a fight. “Something about that woman today. It made me think of my mother and my sisters.”

“You miss them,” he says quietly.

“Very much.” Saying the words somehow makes me feel it more deeply. I draw a breath and hold it when it hitches at the top.

“Do you wish to go back to Dara?”

Do I? “I don’t know. It’s not the same as it was before I was marked. The only place for me is on the outside, watching their lives from afar. Even if I were right there in Dara, I could never really go back to them.”

I don’t know if I’ve ever said those thoughts out loud. They leave me feeling empty, and I let the words drift and settle around us.

Dineas steps closer, and I feel his hands on my shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. Then he puts two fingers under my chin and tilts my head up, as I’ve done so many times to him when checking his pupils. It catches me off guard at first. The feel of someone’s skin against mine is rare enough, much less a touch given solely for comfort. I’d forgotten how much I missed it.