Vanyel bit his lip, wanting to immediately lash out at the other, to tell him he had no business telling him what he thought was and was not right. But they were the arguments he had heard time and time again, from Yfandes, from Savil, from what friends he had left in the world. The only one who had not commented on such things was his 'niece'.

He looked at him, determined not to have to have this conversation again, and so going to strike the killing blow, here and now.

"Tell me how I am supposed to have a relationship again when the one man I will ever, truly love with all my heart died," he stated flatly, though the underlying pain choked his throat, his hand tightening in Yfandes' mane, and he was glad a horse's man had no nerves, so she could not feel how tight he gripped it.

Not just died. His soul torn to shreds, repudiated, and taken his own life, and Vanyel, even now, felt somewhat responsible, though Savil assured him more than once that there was nothing he could have done. And yet he knew this to be false, deep down, a pang of guilt he would never lose.