Elene put her arm around him, heedless of his filthy clothing and stench. She didn’t say anything, didn’t ask anything, just touched him. Tingles shot through him, and his emotions surged again.

“Do you know who I am?” Kylar asked. He didn’t use the beggar voice.

Elene Cromwyll looked at him strangely, uncomprehending. He wanted to stay hunched, to hide from those gentle eyes, but he couldn’t. He straightened his back and stood up, and stretched his fingers.

“Kylar?” she asked. “It is you! What are you doing here? Did Mags and Ilena send you? Oh my God, what did they tell you?” Her cheeks flushed and her eyes lit with hope and embarrassment. It wasn’t fair that a woman could be so beautiful. Did she know what she was doing to him?

Her face was the face of a girl surprised by a boy in the best way. Oh, gods. She thought he was here to ask her to Mags’s party. Elene’s expectations were about to meet reality like a toddler charging the Alitaeran cavalry.

“Forget Kylar,” he said, though it pained him. “Look at me and tell me who you see.”

“An old man?” she said. “It’s a very good costume, but it isn’t a costume party.” She flushed again as if she were presuming too much.

“Look at me, Doll Girl.” His voice was strangled.

She stopped, transfixed, peering into his eyes. She touched his face. Her eyes went wide. “Azoth,” she whispered. She put a hand on the table to steady herself. “Azoth!” She flung herself at him so fast, he almost tried to block her attack. Then she was squeezing him. He stood stock still, his mind refusing to understand for a long moment: she was hugging him.

He couldn’t make himself move, couldn’t think; he simply felt. The smooth skin of her cheek brushed his scruffy, unshaven one. Her hair filled his nostrils with the clean scent of youth and promise. She hugged him fiercely, the notes of strong hard arms joining with supple firm stomach and back joining with the pure feminine softness of her chest pressed against his making a chord of perfect acceptance.

Tentatively, he lifted his hands from his sides and touched her back. He tasted salt on his lips. A tear, his tear. His chest convulsed uncontrollably, and suddenly he was sobbing. He grabbed her, and she squeezed him harder still. He felt her crying, staccato breaths shaking her slender frame. And for a moment, the world was reduced to a single hug, reunion, joy, acceptance.

“Azoth, I heard you were dead,” Elene said, all too soon.

You will always be alone. Kylar froze up. If tears could stop halfway down a cheek, his would have.