Listening to Constans made it clear how much the boy adored his family; his love for them saturated every word. It made her long for the days spent held warm and safe in her brothers’ keeping. Hands clenching fitfully at her robes she offered prayers to an fickle god that she could not believe in that another family did not become as broken as her own.
That he was a noble was less of a surprise than it could have been, but somehow it still had her blinking in shock. Even worse was the sensation at the back of her mind that she should recognize his brothers’ names. They were so familiar but no matter how hard she tried she could not place them. A feather sat on the tip of her tongue, floating away as she attempted to grab it before settling back down the moment she stopped. It was endlessly frustrating.
It was also distracting her from the child sitting silently beside her. Pushing the… the whatever it was to the back of her mind for later consideration she turned her focus back on Constans. The loss of his mother sounded recent but it felt wrong to ask him. If he wanted to talk to about it she would let him do so on his own time, there was no point in poking at sore wounds.
Biting her lip she turned her gaze to the wall, face serious and voice soft.
“You could write to them.” Breath hitching, barely noticeable, she continued, “I imagine that they want to hear from you.”