"Rohin... Did you hear anything about Nikhil?" Hian asks while Rohin browses the shelves of balms and tinctures. "Did he get away?" "I think so, yes. That is, I didn't hear anything about him." He pauses. "Hian, are you sure he's not related to you? Only he looks just like Diran did at that age..." "Ah, I give up," Hian smiles at Rohin's confused expression. "Yes, he's Diran's son. But not Shrey's. His mother handed him over when he was a toddler, two years after Diran's death." "And you didn't say anything?" Rohin and Hian don't notice the light footfall outside the infirmary. "Every child in our family is adopted," Hian says. "There's a unity in that which I didn't want to break. And I couldn't bear to tell Shrey." Rohin looks up, and spots something behind her. "Oh - Nikhil?" he says, and Hian feels her heart freeze. "Aunt Hian, what -" She turns to see Nikhil in the door, his face white with shock. "Oh no!"