The appearance of Colin, though, triggers something in Byerly. Clear enough from the way that that kind face flickers a moment, towards something ghastly, something monstrous. Byerly goes stiff and stock-still, hands clenching before him, and he tries to swallow past a dry mouth.

Another flicker: Colin's face becomes a mask of death in that moment, pale and gray, blood brimming from his wounded wrists. Byerly presses his eyes shut. It was not Benedict alone who should have treated people better.

"Mm," By agrees, voice strangled in a tight throat, miserably unable to see that resolve in the face of this powerful, powerful regret.