But these were boys on the cusp of being grown, their mischief coming in the water being flicked between them, evidently the chore of cleaning up their supper dishes falling to them. One brother held a great deal more water on his sleeves and in his hair, the other smiling impishly although he turned with a chastened look at their approach.
Both had a mop of fair hair apiece, with features that doubtlessly would charm any girl of their choosing when time came for that.
“Sorry, Mama,” they muttered, one stepping too near the other, a wing shooting forward to block any potential attack.
The envy came, hot and unwelcome. Not at their presence, or their existence within a home that might have been hers. It was the ease in which they said the word, the familiarity they shared.
She wanted that. Wanted to be caught playing with siblings rather than tending to the work with enough efficiency. Wanted a mother who did not fear giving a good-natured scolding, as even now Amarys moved forward, giving them both a gentle shove at the arm, taking both their hands and turning back to Penryn with a worried smile at her lips. “Worely,” she introduced, holding up the hand of the first so Penryn might know to whom she referred. He was the shorter of the two, but something in his eyes suggested he might be the elder. “And Terik,” she continued. His hair was a half-shade darker, his eyes bordering on green rather than blue. Their tunics were similar in cut, the colours of each having faded from the sun and too much time in the seawater. “This is your sister, Penryn.”
It was apparent from their expressions that they had not expected such an introduction, and she could not claim that she was any more prepared for it. To be called sister was something wholly unfamiliar, and even now she did not know that it was the proper term. Rezen appeared beside her, touching her elbow gently, his head leaning down so he might whisper to her privately. “Please, do not be uneasy,” he entreated, and there was no mistaking the hint of pleading to be found there. Take no offence, was what he surely meant, be gracious even when feelings were jumbled, when some childish part of her wanted to grow possessive, wanted to be jealous of a family’s love that was not hers.
Except that it was. With every look, every touch, it was apparent that she held her parents’ favour. They did not love her less simply because they had chosen to bring others into their home, to sweep away the emptiness that had come with the loss of the daughter they had wanted.
She did not know if she should bow or give only a nod of her head in acknowledgement, and indecision left her paralysed for a moment.
Except suddenly the boys were moving instead, scooping her up and giving a little twirl, the act leaving her breathless for a moment and unsteady on her feet when they put her down. “About time you came home,” Terik declared. “Mama’s been waiting an awfully long time for you.” He reached out a hand and stopped himself when they did not settle on the wings he seemed to have expected. Perhaps he had meant to ruffle them in some familiar gesture. Instead he let his hand fall, dramatically noting their absence, marvelling to his brother. “Makes you a compact little thing,” Worley observed, tilting his head as he regarded her.
Words failed her, and she felt the terrible urge to cry once more. She was overwhelmed by their welcome, and felt wholly wretched for her less than flattering emotions that had threatened to spoil what was meant to be a joyous homecoming, and she was not going to ruin things now with allowing yet another outpouring of her feelings.
“And who are you?” Terik enquired, his attention going to Grimult. “Are you a foundling too in need of homing?”
It was obviously said in jest for nothing about Grimult’s age suggested he would require any such thing, but Penryn was glad that their attention had temporarily shifted.
“Hardly,” Grimult answered, a tinge of formality in his voice that gave Penryn pause. Was it difficult for him as well, to be amongst people again? Or perhaps it was for her to be surrounded and touched so freely, when his entire purpose for the course of their relationship had been to see to her safety. It made her want to huddle closer to him, to take a moment simply to be, to fall upon comforts that she had come to treasure so very dearly. “I am your sister’s guardian.”
Both brothers turned to one another, eyes wide and their interest obvious. She had known that the Guardian was heralded throughout the clans, that his name and rank would see him respected upon his return. They would want tales of his heroism, of dangers along the Journey, the truth of each buried behind a knowing smile, mysterious hintings that encouraged the wildest imaginings of what the wilds contained.
But she frowned all the same. It was not a wrong description. That was who he had been, who he was even now. Yet still, it felt wholly lacking. They had not had time to discuss whether to admit their true attachment, had never considered they might find themselves within her family’s company.
And for a moment, she thought she could allow that to stand. To have him seen as merely her protector.
But here, for all too brief a time, she wanted to be something else.
Not the Lightkeep.
And her sweet Grim more than her guardian.
“He is my husband,” she said quietly, testing the words at her lips, and finding that they settled well, even in open company. “Although none may know of it,” she hastened to add. Rezen and Amarys shared a concerned look, and they were not wrong to do so.
