“May I take some of your flowers, Orenna?” Torin asked. It was quiet for a long moment. The loneliness was tangible on the cliff overlooking a foam-churned sea. He didn’t know how long he could tolerate being in this place, and he felt as if he could be swept off his feet by the harsh wind at any moment. “You are the first who has ever asked,” Orenna answered. Torin couldn’t see her, but she sounded close, her voice pitched deep. “Take what you can carry.”
