It is not a patient thing, this spirit. Not when there are so many other ready sources of strong emotion trapped so close on the island, and so unexpectedly thwarted by both the wash of relief from the true Alexandrie and Byerly’s too-ready refusal to take its offer, it curls to nothing to chase other prey.

The remaining Alexandrie’s shoulders drop, and she turns away again, her arms folding across her.

“You should leave,” she says, hoping vainly that the slight quaver in it is less audible to him. “Or I should. It is only a matter of time before there are more, and I would not see any other memories you would not have me see.” Her arms tighten. “That is a kindness you will believe of me, is it not?”