Time had marched on. Claire didn't know by how far or for how long. Everything bled into the same and more of the same. She was in her bedroom, reading one of the same books she had read twice before, when Gilean's telepath brought her to the dining room.
There was Sanria and Leandra, the girl looking wan and pale. With Askari in attendance, they were told that Leandra - a girl of no more than fourteen or fifteen - was pregnant, and Askari was the father.
Claire felt suffocated. She couldn't breathe, but there was no where she could go. She forced herself to sit at the table, her mouth hanging open, contemplating what had been said. And when the two announced they would get married, Claire had been the first to object. They couldn't, they couldn't move out. They... he... he couldn't leave. She hadn't been able to fix them... she hadn't been able to make him understand, and now he might be leaving...
Leandra and her mother left, and before Claire could say a word, Askari vanished back to his room. Claire wanted to cry, but there would be no tears. She stood up and excused herself from Gilean. In a flash of light, she appeared in their bathroom and vomited into the sink.
