Ford held Mia back. He couldn't begin to process what had happened. How had he been persuaded to leave Grandpa behind with Denholm? How had he allowed fear to drive him to that end?
The terror that had washed over him was unaccountable. He was a coward, and now a man was dead.
He could have made Grandpa invisible, made the knife invisible, made the curtain invisible so that the Emperor could see them! He could have tried to tackle Denholm, consequences or no.
Anything. He could have done anything different to prevent this. And yet, fear had kept him from doing anything other than what Denholm had said.
Guilt buried him now, as he stared emptily at Grandpa's body.
No man had ever treated him like Grandpa had. The kindness, the interest in him as a person. The willingness to train him to be a man.
Everything Ford learned to aspire to, every bit of greatness in him, seemed to die a little when Grandpa had taken his last breath.
