“I could not have let you be separated,” Trystan replied, a little more relaxed at Aristide’s general air of calm. He was finding things to be grateful for, even knowing that he was a bastard child, a secret that had been kept for the last two decades.
“In fact, I would have preferred to have raised you myself, but, ah,” – it was his turn to shrug – “other parties felt that the distance would serve you well, in the end.” Distance, discretion, a little veil of anonymity. Trystan was too selfish to have given them up forever, though.
“In fact, I would have preferred to have raised you myself, but, ah,” – it was his turn to shrug – “other parties felt that the distance would serve you well, in the end.” Distance, discretion, a little veil of anonymity. Trystan was too selfish to have given them up forever, though.
