"And my boy?"

"I'll watch over him for the rest of his life. As if he were my only son."

And not mine, Gabrielle thinks. Her only son. And whose fault is that?

There's hurt in his face, inclined so close to hers, but his voice is like a caress. She wants to grab his shoulders and shake him. She won't. Marten's hands are folded behind his back, but in her mind's eye she can see his long thumb twisting at the ring he wears, worrying the red stone. The mark of that ring is still impressed into her lip.