Skywalker’s eyes tracked Edaline’s movements, his body completely still. “I am a son of the Mad Dane King,” he admitted softly. “My mother was a harsh female forced to bear his children - my brother, sister, and myself. She and both my siblings were slain in Phobus’ War, and I have been alone ever since my only niece died soon after the war’s conclusion. Do you wish to associate yourself with me, a man who has known no love but a sister’s of her brother and a niece’s of her uncle, Edaline?” The ragged words hurt to speak. He spoke them anyway. “I know not how to love, not truly. I haven’t felt it since Rue died, and I never received it from anyone but she and her mother . . . I have been alone all these years, all this time, and haven’t so much as searched for a remedy.”

“Lord is there anyone?”