He cast about for something, anything, that would prove his point. A memory came back to him, an image from childhood of a statue in Southbridge Temple, one of the few that had survived from the time of the Breaking. Quickly, he sculpted it in the air. It was Hanalea in trader garb, wielding a sword, a little boy on one hip, a small girl clinging to her skirts. The sculpture was weathered in places, the marble chipped and stained, but it still glowed with an incandescent beauty.

Momentarily, Crow flared up even brighter, so that Han had to shield his eyes, then dwindled to the size of a man. He stared at Han’s conjure-piece, extended a hand as if to touch it. “Hana?” he whispered. “And—and—”

Even after a thousand years, the resemblance between the girl child and Crow was remarkable. The boy more closely mirrored his mother.

“They call it Hanalea Saving the Children,” Han said. “It stands in Southbridge Temple in Fellsmarch. It must’ve been hidden away, else it would have been smashed to bits years ago.”

“Hana. And our children.” Tears streamed down Crow’s face. “The likeness…the likeness is…uncanny.” He stood, arms outstretched like an acolyte before an altar of hope, his eyes focused inward, as if he were reviewing events from a different angle. “Lucas. With Hanalea,” he whispered. “Why would he do that? Why would she do that?”

“I know it’s hard to believe that Lucas is still around, after a thousand years,” Han said.

“That was my doing.” Crow pressed his hands against his forehead as though he could push his memories into a different order. “Lucas feared dying, especially at the end, when we knew we had lost. He said if I helped him cheat death, he’d tell the truth about what had happened. I tried to talk him out of it. It was a charm I’d never attempted before. Apparently, it worked.”

“Apparently,” Han said.

“All right,” Crow said, blotting his eyes. “Assuming this isn’t some kind of cruel joke—what happened to them? The twins, I mean.”

“Alyssa founded the new line of queens. But Alister was gifted. He was sent away.”

“The Bayars didn’t kill him?” Crow touched the little boy’s head, stroked the marble curls.

“The Bayars never knew about him. The Demonai wanted to kill him, but Hanalea intervened.” Han gestured toward the statue. “As you can see.”

Crow’s expression mingled dawning hope and skepticism. “So, the Gray Wolf line—the queens—carry my blood, too?”

Han nodded. “Just a trace, after a thousand years. But the Bayars never married in again.”

Crow paced back and forth, going all shimmery, the way he did when he was agitated. Then he paused, swinging around to face Han. “What about Alister’s line? Where do you come in?”