Kennit smiled at him. He smoothed one long thumb across the boy’s tattoo. ‘Wipe it away,’ he commanded him. ‘On your face, it goes no deeper than your skin. You do not need to bear it on your soul.’ For five breaths more Kennit held him, until he saw a sort of wonder cross Wintrow’s features. Kennit placed a kiss on his brow, then released him.
