“At the very time you were attacked, I was roused from sleep. My chest ached with the need to protect . . . something.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “It was an unformed, chaotic urge, but, gods, it was strong. I thought I’d go mad from it. Had I been out in the world, I could have sensed you better, could have found you sooner. It was my fault you were vulnerable to those four. That’s why I was so determined to discover who they were—to right the wrong I did to you.”
