“Congratulations, by the way,” she said, her voice quiet. “I heard about the seventh Trial. It’s amazing, truly.”
I made the mistake of looking at her. Her bright blue eyes bored into mine. I blinked.
“Adrian?” Warren had entered the room, wiping the dirt on his hands off on an old cloth our mother had given him. “I—it’s good to see you.”
He hesitated for only a moment, then stepped forward and embraced me.
Our mother smiled at us from the doorway.
“We can, um, go into the dining room to speak in private,” Warren offered. “I can get you something to drink, or to eat, if you’re—”
“I’m fine. The dining room is fine.”
He nodded and gestured for me to lead the way. I glanced back at Dahlia and my mother one last time before stepping into the hall and heading for the door directly across from the living room.
The dining room looked the same as it had two months ago. The same old paintings of various stages of Sanctuary’s history that I was sure Milo would have been able to identify. The same shiny, wood table and chairs. The same scratchy blueish-gray carpet. I strode to the corner and placed a hand on the strange vase that had come with the house. I ran a finger along the smooth surface and studied the intricate design to avoid looking at my brother, who’d taken a seat at the table and waited, hands folded patiently in front of him.
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” I muttered after a moment.
“Funny,” Warren chuckled. “I was about to say the same to you.”
“You’re married now,” I breathed, hardly believing it. “I should have congratulated you last time I was here.”
“I’d like to apologize, Adrian.”
My shoulders tensed.
“I shouldn’t have said you were becoming one of them. That wasn’t fair of me. After everything you’ve done for us, and I know it isn’t the life you chose for yourself—”
“And this? Is this the life you would have chosen for yourself?”
Warren sighed.
“Do any of us really get to choose?” he asked. I looked over to him, finally. He smiled sadly. “No, Adrian. This isn’t the life I would have chosen for myself originally. But, as it turns out, I’m happy. I think we have a remarkable way of being able to find our own happiness despite our circumstances and, sometimes, even because of them.”
I snorted. “You’ve been talking to Bria?”
Warren chuckled.
“She comes and goes.” He leaned back in his seat, more comfortable now that things weren’t so awkward between us anymore. “I think she’s trying to save our souls.”
“Good luck to her on that,” I replied, and Warren smiled again.
We sat in silence for a moment.
“I’m sorry too,” I said then. “For anything I said or any guilt I might have made you feel. You did the right thing, Warren. I had no right to be mad at you for it.”
“You had some right, but not much.”
I chuckled. “How’s she doing?”
Warren’s smile dimmed slightly.
“She has good days and bad days,” he admitted. “She finds solace in the simple things. Mom’s been teaching her how to cook, how to sew, things like that. It’s not what she’s made for, but she’s finding some contentment in doing it all the same. Sometimes, she talks about him. It’s hard for her, I can tell, but I think she knows I understand. In a way.”
I nodded, staring down at the table.
“I never told you what happened…with Anna.”
