Gregory was silent for a moment. Until he’d met his cousin, he’d never doubted the Traveller belief that those of impure blood—those with only one Traveller parent—were unclean, but now he felt the full injustice of the attitude. It reflected just one of the ways he felt the Traveller society as a whole needed enlightenment. “You can’t control lightning at all? But you have the mark.”
Peter touched his chest where the long, feathery pattern had been branded into his skin by a lightning strike. Kiya had a name for it—lightning flower. Gregory himself had a similar mark spreading across his back at the shoulders, but he never bothered much about how or why he had it. “Not in the way you can. I can’t manifest lightning except when Kiya and I . . .” He gave an embarrassed cough and stopped.
