“And then what did you say, Glam?”
“My darling Sirocco, You’re right, I don't know you. If you did know me, you would know that I would rather tatter your hide to shreds than let it fall to someone outside the Legacy family. I will happily meet you at Rivals Summit. There will be no leniency from me.”
She can remember sitting there eagerly, listening to the story. To tiny, little Minah, there was little that could top that story. (Although Liam’s tall tales perhaps could run a close second.) She thought, she wanted, to be strong like that. Like her Glam.
But it is clear how she sits in the crook of his neck that she is not that strong. She has endured much but it has not made her stronger, only broken, shattered into tiny pieces. She doesn't know, she doesn't know that Tarian is seeing ghosts in her eyes. If she did she would have shut them so quickly, so tightly, to save him from such a burden. But instead they are wide, wide, wide, desperate to catch every inch of her brother’s face. “Maren,” she says. “Orani, she had read in the stars, that you—you were in trouble or something.” She says and shakes her head, it sounds silly now that she is here. “Maren brought me here—to you.”
To you. Gods she has missed her brother. She misses all of them. She had had Maren, in the Donietas. Kildare never even made it to Liridon, he left them first, setting off to find whatever he needed to find. Then Tarian left too, to the drums of war. And Minah’s heart sank. She clung tighter and tighter to Maren, until Maren too started to slip away. Her body had stayed behind, but she kept dreaming of flying and who was Minah to stop her.
“I’ve missed you.”
@Tarian