Rastaban spread his hands, expression guileless. “You heard the shaman. He died on his own.”
“Monster!” Shruti lunged at him.
Rastaban stood there, took her blows, for she was too breathless from sobbing to strike with much force.
“You killed my son!”
Rami placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her away gently, implacably. “Shruti, Dravi is gone, but Rastaban had no hand in it. No human had a hand in it.”
“He’s not human!” Shruti jabbed a finger in Rastaban’s direction.
Rami gestured, and some of the women circled Shruti, led her away.
Rami turned to Rastaban. “How?”
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