Lan Wangji's jaw tightens. He will never forget the way Galahad jerked back from him, the sharpness of his No! at even the gentle offer of spiritual energy to steady his mind, an attempted gift from someone who loved him. For some hollow facsimile of Magnus to touch his mind without asking -- it is an unimaginable violation. He steps in closer still and settles his hands at Galahad's shoulders. Galahad even cries just as he does: silent, tears streaming down his face. "What did he do with it?"