"And if I don't say it, who will?" K'thalen Nunh would be too kind. That's why he was a Nunh, and the callous, secretly wicked K'ile Tia was the one who delivered the hard news, put the children in the racks, enforced exile. His heart was brittle from it, perhaps, but the loss of K'aijeen was not enough to break it. Nor, it seemed, was K'piru's pleading.
Because she needed this. The Tia tightened his features. "You've every right to mourn, but you can't leave the tribe over it. You have duties. You have your other daughters. There's nothing left to give up on. There is no daughter left to return to you."
Because she needed this. The Tia tightened his features. "You've every right to mourn, but you can't leave the tribe over it. You have duties. You have your other daughters. There's nothing left to give up on. There is no daughter left to return to you."
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