Rhagi took the bottle and snagged himself a glass. He could sense her strangled emotion and respected it. She had given him enough in those bare bones of her story to justify the anger, and the pain underneath it.
"No, I haven't seen her. I'm sorry. She was a slave? Do you mean she isn't any more?" That 'we were separated' made the division sound involuntary, and he knew, academically rather than from any experience, what was likely to happen to the children of slaves. "You must miss her."
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