"What did you see?"
Selendra did not answer at once.
That alone was enough to cool the wound in his hand. She had walked in carrying a warning, spoken of futures with the calm of someone long used to dangerous things, and set her teeth into him without once losing her grip. Now she looked shaken, and on her that was worse than open fear.
"Selendra," he said, lower. "What did you see?"
Her gaze came back by degrees, finding his face first and the hand at his chest after. The blood below his thumb had slowed, though the print of her bite stood clear on the skin.
"The same field as before," she said at last. "Down to the stone."
Alfons did not move. "The battlefield. With the eight towers."
"With the eight towers. There is no mistaking them, Alfons. They were yours."
