“She’s going to grow up differently than I did.”

Magda, Kell on her hip, turned to look at the babe cradled in Miriel’s arms. She moved closer, letting Kell play with the soft dark curls of her hair as she fixated on his mother. It struck her then that, in some ways, she had more in common with Miriel than many women of Nevermere. Both had spent their young lives strangled by the fists of oppressive men, but now?

Now they yearned for something more.

“She will,” Magda said with certainty, still balancing Kell, “With her mother’s strength, she will.” She smiled at Miriel, eyes uncharacteristically soft as she drank in the sight of Izen’s wife.

Magda smiled back, looking at Miriel with obvious affection. What was more subtle was the possessive glint of a woman who had spotted a fine jewel in a window display and intended to make it her own.

“We will keep it. Trust me—we will.” Magda balanced Kell on her hip and inclined her head slightly, “Should we go inside? If you need to wash up after your run, I can keep the children entertained." She smiled. "Good practice for me, I suppose."

Magda entered Miriel’s home as if she’d been there a thousand times before. In the presence of only her “sister”, Magda looked as girlish and unrestrained as she’d ever been. The sparkle in her eyes might be mistaken for lightness with the glow in her cheeks as she held Kell on one hip. She ran a finger down the boy’s nose before gently booping it with her finger.

“If it’s not too much trouble…” Magda said, still enchanted with the child as she looked about the room, “I’d offer to help but,” Kell giggled as Magda ran her fingers through his hair, “I’m a terrible cook.”