Silver Creek [m] Ain't nowhere left for the good to go

She was at first only devastated when she was not met with openness. The rebuttal embarrassed her; she felt she should have been pleased, but instead she only found herself feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Then the story came, but in such a rote tone of voice that guilt and annoyance tore at her from either side of her mind. She wished she hadn't asked, but she had. And, as Winterbourne had said, they'd shared much more than a meal. They were getting ready to share a life, weren't they?

She quailed beneath the granite of his gaze, intimidated and immediately angry about that fact. She was not used to such coldness from someone she cared about, and she didn't like it.

"I suppose not," she said, trying not to be nasty and falling just short of the mark. Her tone was flippant, almost, when she went on: "I suppose there is nothing new to talk about. My family is all dead, too."

Almost, being the key word. Her eyes still watered when she thought about it, and Ingiullik was angry about that, too.

"Ingiullik is what they called me," she told him, her voice sharper and stronger than she meant it to be all in an effort to keep from crying. "But I have gone by Inanna since their passing. You are the first to know my name."