079
~ Duncan POV There are two kinds of war. The kind fought with claws and steel. And the kind fought in silence, inside your own blood. I had survived the first. The second was destroying me. Marianne had died in this house. In our bedroom. In my arms. I remember the way her breathing had thinned out over months. The way her inhaler stopped working as effectively. The way the physicians insisted it was worsening asthma. Genetic. Unfortunate. I believed them. I believed my sister. Eunice had handled the medications when I was away managing borders. She’d insisted on helping. Said Marianne trusted her. I trusted her too. She was my little sister. I never questioned her. That was my failure. When Iris came to me three nights ago with documents in her hands and fury in her eye
- Writer
