“Your brother needs no stone for his monument. But then, you know this. Kaden’s monument, and Triste’s, is carved into the minds of all your kind.” Adare hesitated, then gestured to the silk-wrapped figure. “And for him?” The historian closed his eyes, cocked his head, as though listening to some music she could not hear. “We do not want. Not in any way that you could understand.” “I have to do something.” “No, you do not. The tomb’s emptiness is all.”
