An unfamiliar sadness built inside Carrick as Hermes talked. Maybe Samandriel had been right after all.
Carrick's fingers stroked the now white hair at Hermes' temple. He leaned forward and kissed the boy slowly, his forehead leaning against the slave's own.
"I've told you before. You bring light to this house. And light has not been permitted here for a very, very long time."
He drew the slave close and tucked the pale head onto his shoulder. He bent his lips to the snowy white hair. "I love you, little bird."