“The frost in his eyes is cracking and, behind it, the green of the
first buds of spring. "When I was young," he says, "I was afraid of
everything. Atreus's hounds, Agamemnon's games, mutilated bodies,
angry slaves. Wherever I looked, I feared.
I learned to overcome those fears. I had to, or I would have died. But
something stayed inside me, a feeling of rootlessness, of floating
through life trying not to drown."
She listens though she doesn't know that sensation. Every step she has
taken since she was a child had a direction. And it brought her here.
He stares at her. "But now I know that I belong with you."
She closes her eyes and savors the feel of his hand against her own. He
doesn't know this, but he gave her a chance too, which no one else did.
He told her: Look I am as damaged as you, but here I am.”