Page 123 of Commander’s Mate

“Meya?”

“Yes.”

My chest tightened.

She wore blue with silver stitching and one sleeve rolled slightly higher than the other, as if she had been dragged into formal clothes against her will.

“You look alike.”

“She would object.”

“Then definitely.”

His mother stood on the other side.

I knew instantly.

Not because she resembled him.

Because she had the expression of a woman who had organized everyone else in the picture.

“That’s your mother.”

“Yes.”

“She looks terrifying.”

“She was.”

“Your father?”

He touched the fourth figure.

Tall.

Quiet face.

One hand resting behind Meya’s shoulder.

“He died before the attack.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Old illness.”

Not every grief in his life came from war.

That made him feel more real somehow.

The image changed.

A kitchen.

Meya holding a spoon like a weapon.

Zared laughing.

Actually laughing.