Qeya River But you can do a kindness and look me in the eyes

Long after Etienne shrugged and spoke, Anselm was silent. 

Ruminating. So many little paths had lead to this moment. At what hour had it all began to become undone? Anselm could not say. Did it happen when he first met Etienne? Or did his ruination come much earlier, when one selfish act lead to another?

The face before him held years of quiet suffering, of emotions spent and unspent. Those eyes had seen much of unfairness, selfishness, pure pigheaded stupidity. And yet, Etienne was willing to extend personal favors to the man who had all but kicked him in the ribs while he was down. 

Anselm looked away, suddenly flooded with shame. He had no right to ask Etienne for anything, and he certainly deserved even less. When Etienne had been made and whatever power it was had crafted him to be generous and kind, it had done exactly the opposite for Anselm — extracting every last bit of goodness and charity out of him. 

I vill come. Not to meet Heda again, but to reunite his children. And though he dared not say it or think it too openly — to see Etienne.