It's another moment of uncomfortable similarity. Someone shrinking your world so you can move less and less, until you're hiding in the trophy room pretending that's all there is. He tries to say something, or even to keep walking toward the island, but his thoughts are caught in a loop. Those were the kinds of games his mother played, taking Delilah and Thomas places without telling Nathaniel they were going anywhere, unless his memory really was that bad and he really had told her he didn't want to go. She liked playing mama with Thomas in particular, so long as she didn't have to sacrifice anything for it. But Nathaniel didn't merit any manner of effort beyond lying. Or criticism. No, actually, not the criticism, which she relished. It appeared to give her energy, even. But Nathaniel wasn't a pretty child, he didn't make a good accessory, so she simply did whatever was cheapest for him. If she had run a tower, she would have kept him inside because it was cheaper than building a fence.

And to think an entire organization thinks this way? And the Chantry certainly has the wealth to build a fence. Who was it who decided, how many people looked at a large group of people under their care, weighed their need for sunshine and exercise, and decided it was less important than the paltry cost of a fence? Even Eliane had had the decency to pay attention to two out of three children.

"I see why you were so determined to leave," he says with a faint growl.