[ Her question has him pausing, a hitch in his step. It takes him a few moments to recover, eyes going unfocused as he turns his head towards the tulip fields he'd pointed out earlier. From here, they wouldn't be able to see it—the ground slants downwards as it runs to the lake. ]

There's a cherry tree. After Da's— [ He stops, swallowing the words. ] —after Da passed, they buried him next to her.

[ Shaking his head, he clears the image of the bloodstained field, finally returning the press of his hand in Inej's, pulling his gaze away from that unseen point. His steps resume, the soft silt of the shore filling the imprint of their soles with residual moisture. ]

Last time I was here, I found her portrait tucked in a closet. Suppose the person the bank sent to take care of the sale couldn't bear to sell it off with everything else.