Bitterroot Valley blood ties

blackfell had been relatively calm—that was before kaedra started flying insults off at the mouth. gabbing her lips, as she had always done, stirring an old ire in the elder brother.

yet not enough to move him from where he sat, watching with cold eyes cut from rubies. that same gaze flickering to veksar briefly, watching the anger ripple through him, and then back to their sister. poised like the perfect princess, reeking of her arrogance and self-importance.

it was exactly why she had been passed over for the seat of blackmarch.

you both should have stayed. he corrects, looking between the two of them with a sense of finality. i left to prevent war. it was not an invitation to follow. he stands and assumes position of scolding older brother. it was he who had slain their father, so now it was he who must fill the shoes the man left behind.

even if they were so far from their families ancestral seat.

what's done is done.