The pain we feel in life always grows. When we’re little, little pains hurt us. When we get bigger, we learn to handle more and more pain and carry on regardless. Old people are the hands-down champions of enduring pain. And my grandfather was centuries old. This pain, though. This hurt him. This broke him. He bowed his head. His tears fell to the dock. Then he paused. Then his expression changed. He looked up at me. His eyes widened, and then his face twisted into rage and disbelief. “Why, you sneaky—” “Good talk,” I said, “Wizard McCoy.” And I let go of the Winter glamour Lady Molly had
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