“Do the turned mourn themselves?” I asked softly. The tragedy of such a thought slammed into me much harder than I expected, and for a moment, I saw Rune’s face. Reggie set down his drink, a sad smile tugging at his lips as he leaned closer. “Some. I do every day.” He shook his head, rubbing his chin dotted with silvery stubble before shaking a finger at me. “You, my dear, are quite unlike any mortal or immortal I have ever met before.”
