The lilac flames that surrounded Claire's body did not burn as intensely anymore. She was relatively silent, withdrawn, just a shell. She had not talked to Ruthivan in months, and he could not reach her inside the cottage. She tried to talk to her children, but Mirin seemed overly concerned to the point of avoidance, while Askari seemed so angry with her he couldn't stand her presence. The others were still too young to understand, but already Claire could see Celiara having the same pain that her brother carried, and handling it in the same way she was herself - silence and withdraw.
Claire tried to be happy, but the emptiness was back within her. She went through her days caring for Matinus and Celiara while Gilean went to the temple, and the other children went out. She did miss going out. She stared longingly at the garden beyond the back door, her hand on the glass, until one of the children cried or needed her. This was the only way she could manage to keep herself from being taken, the only way to make everyone... she didn't know. She turned away, wiping a tear from her eye, tears she never let anyone in the cottage see.
That night, Claire was visited by Sanria and a very distraught Colin. The trees had brought them to her because Askari had vanished with their daughter. She called him to the house and in typical fashion, he avoided speaking outright. Finally, in fear of Colin, he admitted to knowing where Leandra was. The boy brought her back, and Claire tried to give him a hug of gratitude, which was promptly shrugged off. She had never felt so defeated.
When she went to Askari's room later, she finally told the boy of his conception - how she was forced into marriage and bearing him - she had hoped that it might spark some camaraderie between them. It had backfired, and Claire left the room with an even larger hole in her chest. Something would have to give. She lay in her bed, Gilean sleeping beside her, and cried in silence until sleep overtook her.
