The candle on the desk burned without flickering.
Lord Blackwood sat across from him, hands resting on his knees, and said nothing for a moment. The silence was uncomfortable.
"You fought against my son," he said at last.
"Yes."
"And you came here. To a father, in his grief." He studied Ryan with dark, unhurried eyes. "That takes something—Courage—Not everyone has it." He inclined his head. "Your apology is accepted, Ryan. And I thank you for the courage it took to give it."
He rose from the bed slowly. A gentle, dignified close to a conversation that had reached its natural end.
"That isn't why I came," Ryan said.
Lord Blackwood stopped.
He turned.
"I beg your pardon?"
"The apology was genuine," Ryan said. "But it wasn't the reason I came to find you." He held the man's gaze. "Your son asked me to deliver a message. To you, specifically." A pause. "After he died."
The room was very still.
