He felt more tears growing in his exhausted eyes. The gods damn it all, he was tired of crying, and tired of hiding it every time he did. He let his tears fall and his lower lip quiver.

“I saw no other way, Aurelia. You have to understand. I thought it would do him good, that maybe he could cut my throat, and the blood would cover some of the pain you two felt. But he didn't. He forgave me. For all of it. I didn't need blood or penance, he just…let it go.”

He fell silent. Aurelia huddled her knees to her chest and pressed her shaking fist to her mouth. She stared at him, taking in every movement he made, every twitch of his eyes, every sad, whispered word.

“Harruq said he forgave you,” she said. “Did I ever say the same?”

Qurrah shrugged and stared her in the eye.

“Years ago, when you two married, I told my brother I was proud of him, and that he’d found an excellent bride. I meant those words. I still do. Please, Aullienna was…”

“Don't,” Aurelia said. She stood, her shoulders stooped and her head bowed by the low fabric of the tent. “Just…don't. Not tonight, not while my husband lies bleeding and bedridden with fever.”

She stepped outside, whispered something to the angel guard, and then glanced to Qurrah, who did not look back.

“The others want you executed,” she said. “I'm not sure Harruq can stop them.”

“Will you stop them?” Qurrah asked. The quiet stretched out longer and longer.

“Good night, Qurrah,” she said, slipping away.

It was the answer he deserved, he knew.