“Yes,” I tell him. “I’m here.”

“You hate me, don’t you?” he says without looking at me.

I am startled that my cousin would care what I think. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I place the vase so he can see it. The morning light is stark. I can barely recognize my returned cousin. Mavis was right he is a living skeleton.

“Mrs. Sullivan says it might snow later today. But it appears that Mavis has already stocked enough firewood to keep you warm.” I add another birch log to the fire, but the chill has seeped inside my bones.

“You wished I were Will. Last night I could see it in your face. You wished he’d come home instead of me.” He scowls. “Mother’s joy doesn’t make up for your devastation.”

“No, you can’t ”

“And why wouldn’t you mourn? My brother was your beloved, and now I’m your enemy even if you’ll never admit it. I convinced him to sign up with the Twenty-eighth, and I failed my most important duty, to bring him back alive.”

“He’s gone, then.” I force him to confirm it. “He’s been killed.”

“Yes.”

I’d been braced for this truth, but I’m not sure I ever would have been prepared for it. The air leaves my lungs. It takes all my resilience to walk across the room and slip my hand into Quinn’s. He is suffering, too, after all.

His palms are calloused, chapped. Gentleman’s hands no more. “Quinn, tell me. How did it happen? I’m strong enough to stand it.”

“If I’m strong enough to tell it.” He swallows. “Undo my bandage first. And bring me a mirror. I want to see my eye.”

“But Doctor Perkins ”

His head jerks up from the pillow. “If it were your eye, you’d snap your fingers for a mirror and command me not to bully you.”

Quinn hasn’t lost his uncanny ability to pin me to my own logic, but I’m too weak to spar with him. I retrieve the hand mirror from the bureau. Then I sit close and begin the odious task of unwinding his bandages. My attention is grave and utter, and for a few minutes there’s no other sound than our breathing.