“How can I marry her, Tata?” he asked, shaking his head. “She’s a child.”
“She had her first blood years ago. It’s time. You’ve known this day would come since you were a boy.”
This day had just been two meaningless words throughout his life. He’d had no vision of a future with Roksana. What he had known was Roksana’s little giggles at catching frogs together, her mewling cries when she’d dropped a fresh honeycomb from her hands, her bumbling attempts at hitting a scarecrow with his practice sword. And she was as much family to him as any blood of his blood. He could never see her as anything other than a sister, and marriage would twist everything irrevocably.
“Give me one more year,” Kaspian said. “Henryk might come home.” It was more of a wish than a likelihood, but he said it anyway
