" other hand. “How are you holding up?” “Better.” Tears stung her eyes as she squeezed the hands clasped in hers. “A lot better now.” * * * On a sprawling estate not so many miles from where Grace sat with those who loved her, a man stared out at the hissing rain. Everyone had failed, he thought. Many had paid for their failures. But retribution was a poor substitute for the Three Stars. A delay only, he comforted himself. The Stars were his, they were meant to be his. He had dreamed of them, had held them in his hands in those dreams. Sometimes the hands were human, sometimes not, "

― Nora Roberts , Secret Star (Stars of Mithra, #3)