Her own thoughts weren't so different from his. On a different level, naturally. When he withdrew, she took many moments to remain in silence. The sensation had been odd and unfamiliar to her. There was a kinship to her embraces with Haytham, but a distinctly...

It wasn't the same.

Ziio had never felt much fear for herself, yet at the same time, Connor held security about him. And she'd expected that.

"You are my son," she replied in kind, her English as it ever was. "That was not weakness you showed me," was motherly reassurance. "When you were younger, we did."

A long past for him, yet something somewhat recent for her. "You've nothing to be sorry for."