"'Loyal'..." he repeats slowly, as if testing the word. As if savouring it. He covers one of her hands as his gaze lingers upon her face. "If you would accept me," he says thickly, "then I-- yes."

It would be impossible for him to forget who they once were. He can see their spirit in parts of them, in their habits, their gestures, their resolve. But funnily enough, without his Sight he can see her properly for once. She slowly becomes less 'Azem' and more 'Irhya'.

Offering her a faint, wry smile of his own, he picks up the pace.