Qian turned her head on the white pillow, staring blankly at Brand as he shed tears. The room was silent.
Medisha did not speak, Furlo was silent, and Char just watched Brand.
Antitina looked around, finally, she suspiciously looked at her Lord. She hadn't experienced the dark underground of Shafelund, nor did she have Medisha's keen insight—naturally, she didn't understand what Brand meant to Qian at this moment. But even a fool could see the girl's attachment to Brand, which made her ponder.
Brand walked closer and stood by Qian's bedside. The girl finally restrained her weakness, she calmed down and weakly forced a smile through her tears at Brand—that smile was sweet but fragile, as if carved on a pale, thin paper, ready to shatter at any moment.
"You're back... my Lord." Qian began, she hadn't eaten anything for days, relying mainly on water to sustain her life. The girl was so weak she could barely make a sound and described it with her lips.
