Beka considered his words carefully and without reacting, though the faint line between her eyebrows relaxed a touch when he confirmed that Samuel was still there. Not dead then, but a prisoner in his own body, forced to watch another man control his life. Beka could not imagine worse fate; death, at least, brought peace. Despite that, she could not deny that her primary feeling was relief. If Samuel still lived, then there was hope. Idyrius himself was regretful over the situation, having not chosen this for himself. Lora had mentioned that they had killed the mage who had done it, that Idryius had grieved his death and tried to end himself. That alone told her that this was difficult for him too, albeit for different reasons.
She finally acknowledged his words with a curt nod, coming to a decision. “I will prepare the spare room for you.”
Victor immediately spoke up. “Beka, we will find somewhere else for him to stay. There is no need for you to—”
Beka interrupted, the volume of her voice remaining at the same even level. “I will not deprive my husband of the comfort and familiarity of his home, nor will I decline to offer hospitality to someone who is clearly in need of it. Unless Idryius chooses otherwise, he is welcome at my hearth.”
Victor shook his head. “It is too much, Beka. There is no need for you to endure that pain needlessly, not with you so near your time.”
Beka’s gaze grew cold, and her voice tapered to just above a whisper. “I know what I can endure better than you do. Unless Idryius chooses otherwise, he is welcome at my hearth,” she repeated.