In Which Morgan Discovers Part of the Why

January 16, 1185

On a logical level, it made sense that Lucien was coping better with the shock of Asalaye's death than Vera was. Lonriad was her brother, after all. Plus, she'd known Asalaye all her life; their parents had been friends, and they'd been close enough in age to make suitable playmates as children and companions as young women. Then Asalaye had married Vera's brother and become an official part of the family, and this had all occurred well before Lucien was ever in the picture. Morgan doubted that Lucien had disliked Asalaye, but they hadn't been any closer than the average pair of people whose spouses happened to be siblings. If only one of them would be in a state on the day of her funeral to dress the children in black and make sure they were calm before they left the house, of course Lucien would be the more likely.

All the same, it wasn't like Vera to mope through breakfast, then dress more quickly than Lucien or Morgan only to slink downstairs to sit and sulk some more. Most unusually, or so Morgan thought, was that her friend's subdued behavior hadn't started when they'd received news of Asalaye's death.

Rather, it had started some time the night before. "Do you want to talk?"

"Maybe." An indefinite word by nature. Vera's unsure quiver did little to help. "I don't know."

At least the mood hadn't made a liar of her. Morgan lifted her skirts and made for the couch. She doubted she could do much of immediate use, but sometimes just sitting with someone helped. "I'm sorry about your sister-in-law."

"She doesn't feel gone." Vera's fingers flexed at the knuckle, only to fall back into their fold atop her black velvet gown. "None of them ever do."

"Mmm." It was the most sympathetic she could offer without outright agreeing. Her foster mother had left with her last breath, and so had her husband. Her baby hadn't even gotten that. Years later, their absence remained obvious.

But grief was a tricky thing, and it touched no two people quite the same. Who was Morgan to presume that her feelings were any more valid than Vera's?

"I guess... maybe I knew..."

Morgan shook her head. There was always someone who claimed to have known, probably out of misplaced guilt. As if Vera could have done anything to prevent Asalaye's death. "You couldn't have."

"But I did. I always do." What? "I can always sense when someone's going to die. And knowing Asalaye was due, I figured it would be her."

That explained her mood of late. Morgan shuddered. Her foster mother had possessed a not-dissimilar ability once upon a time, or so she'd said, one that had later evolved into something even more uncanny--and Morgan had been the only soul she'd ever told. Was this why her gut feelings had led her to Naroni? Or part of why, at least? "Does anyone else know?"

"Just my father and Lucien. There's not much point telling anyone else, since I can't stop it anyway." She sighed. That was the feeling in a sound, Morgan supposed. It couldn't have been easy, knowing all despite lack of power. "If I have to have something, I would rather something helpful."

Who wouldn't?

And yet... "Maybe some day."

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