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He found Kelly waiting for hih to tell hi this h had requested the personal ation

“They’re in the east drawing room, sir”

“They?”

“She brought her daughter”

Another little punch to the gut But …“All right Thank you, Kelly”

Natalia and Elsa Singh were dressed inclothes Dark blue hite accents Not the full black of , but somber He sat across from them as Kelly served tea and cakes Duarte felt the terief and anger looked different from Teresa’s lesson with the clay boats, but it seemed impolite, so he didn’t

Kelly closed the door behind hih didn’t touch hers, but the little girl ate soa

r overca profound in that Beautiful and sad both

“Doctor Singh,” Duarte said “I am so sorry for your loss”

Her chin lifted a few degrees, proud and defiant He hoped she wasn’t going to do anything stupid Grief was a terrible thing

“Thank you, sir,” she said through a tight throat The little one looked over, confused less by the words than by her mother’s tone of voice Elsa was a smart child, he could see that Empathetic, which was ence She shifted on the couch, scooted toward her mother

Duarte leaned forward, putting down his teacup He laced his fingers together, and when he spoke, he tried to put as irl had expressed in her movement

“You asked to speak with me How can I help you?”

“I would like to request a copy of the formal inquiry into my husband’s death,” she said, then sed

Duarte slipped His focus shifted, and the whatever-it-was—thought, consciousness, attention—becaht in around Natalia Singh’s head and chest, wrapping her like a shroud The little one—Elsa—hers was diffused around her, thicker toward her ing to co more, apparently, than just metaphor He pulled his attention back to his more usual senses with a little echo of sha