Wren's POV
I spent the two hours after walking away from him trying to talk myself out of being as rattled as I am.
It isn't the question about my parents that's done it, not really; I've fielded worse questions from worse people over the last five years and come out the other side without cracking. It's the way he asked it, direct, no performance behind it, like he actually expected an honest answer instead of the rehearsed one everyone else has always been satisfied with. Nobody's asked me that plainly in years. It shouldn't have unsettled me the way it did.
I try reading in the library for a while, an old book on pack law that Sable recommended half as a joke, but the words slide past without landing, and eventually I give up and go looking for the kitchen instead, in search of somet
