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I don't think so, Hawk had said.

But the shape of his face persisted, burned somewhere in Numair's brain. His eyes darted across the pages of the file, words jumping out at him where they had not before--here, Alexei Hawk Press, and below it, Liliya Kiski,and several pages later, in an appendix, PRESS, ALEXEI HAWK, and below that, his age, but in large letters after it, (DECEASED), and under his relations, Liliya Kiski (half-sister)...

< Surely you're not going to keep the photos in? > Helly said, concerned. < Your Highness--she's only a child, don't make her look at those. >

A photo stapled to a page in the file was covered discreetly by a small sheet of paper. He'd lifted it with his thumb, remembering the photo beneath as vivid, searing. < I don't know that I should make that choice for her, Helly. >

Are you sure? he'd asked.

He lifted the cover on the photo now, and it was searing, in a number of ways. The description in the appendix had said, Attached photo is taken approximately one half-hour after death. And there was Hawk, from the chest up, lying in the dry grass, lit by some bright firelight nearby, head tilted to one side, mouth slack--

Numair sat frozen, staring.

I have seen your face before.