She could hear Théadan putting it together and she could not humor him with a response to his joke. She was too dejected, too wracked with guilt that she had hurt people she had come to like quickly. Théadan sounded just as full of disbelief as she once he moved past the attempt to lighten their newest problem and she nodded her agreement to his comment on the gods’ sense of humor. She thought it cruel of them and she could not place why the gods would care to twist their lives up so much. Luckily Théadan distracted her from thoughts that would never have an answer and she glanced down to study the hand he placed upon her thigh.<br/><br/>“Silva was reading a letter when I entered the kitchen to ask for the razor,” Navia explained, voice thick and soft, “Brydon was right next to her, so they both know. I didn’t want to intrude on their conversation, so I went to leave, but then I heard her telling Brydon. I tried to apologize, I tried to tell them what happened, but Maevar came into the room after me. I don’t think Silva wants their kids to know just yet.” With a small frown, Navia thought back to the moment she had tried to speak with Silva over what had happened and the way the other woman had shook her head at her, “That or she does not want to speak to me at all.”<br/><br/>Navia lifted a hand from around her knees to reach out and lightly trace Théadan’s fingers with the tip of one of hers, a her face rife with disappointment and guilt. The differences in their hands were apparent, the size difference, the shape. Her hands were small, fingers tapering gracefully, skin smooth and dark. His blockier, larger, riddled with nicks and scars, paler. If her skin was lighter, if she had been a Mes’Mo’Tanian duchess instead of Khluri, would they have hurt as many people as they had? How many lives had they changed for the worse after falling in love?<br/><br/>“I’m tired of hurting people,” Navia admitted lowly, tears stinging her eyes, “Your parents, Ivette, possibly Armen…Argyle.” They had probably hurt Rhodon too, and had definitely hurt the Beast, but she did not have the grace to regret those. She regretted Argyle though, that guilt had not yet dulled despite the situation she had been put in, and her voice quivered just by saying his name. Navia cleared her throat and continued, “Ivarn and Ragná, now Silva. We’ve come so far, we’ve gone through too much to stop now, but…Théadan...” Pausing again, Navia tipped her head back so she could gauge Théadan’s expression when she asked, “Are we selfish for staying together when so many people are hurt because of us?”