Fresh eyes

My daughter sees some things clearly just now. I have never pretended that to be alahai is to operate in the light or with what one would call a moral centre (in the sense of the light). She has experienced this herself at my hands, twice, and now she sees it again through the memories of one close to her.

She is angry with me, and appalled. It is all right; in some ways I would expect nothing less. And yet the look in her eyes when she stormed out of my room reminded me very much of San at his coldest. And because she is close to me in this body, and unable to flee to the further reaches of his, I feel some of what she feels. I wonder if this is an echo of her father. I wonder if this is why he left. But why would he have fathered another child first? That is the incomprehensibility of it.

Avalon is not, as yet, so incomprehensible.

I wrote some time ago that Ahren was an heir without access to San’s inheritance. But as he passed by me, coming to see if I was all right and to tuck the blankets about Anala on his way to see Avalon, I realized that he does oversee some of San’s kingdom: His family, including myself. What Ahren will do with it, I am not certain. I will make a very poor dowager-queen.

Ah, these children; they pass their parents by so rapidly. I wish San were here to marvel at it with me as we would gaze over our conmingled waters, and to drink to our retirement to come. Is it not ridiculous, to still feel this marriage, and this lake? Perhaps not, if such children are the result.



About Jenn

Find me on Twitter @JennGruden
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