Three centuries and a handful of days, sliding through her fingers like the reminder of time, reminding her how things change. Three hundred years and Wynn has been slowly beginning to live for all this time, only waiting to find her world torn down all over again.
One sister, small sweet twin-child with her moss green eyes and her guileless smile, a girl who was dying three hundred years ago finally laid to rest.
If it wasn't for all those political repercussions, Wynn might indulge all her imaginations encouragement on all the ways the messenger could die.
It was something that would amuse Laki'sa'riar, she was sure; the omniscient queen would have no trouble picking out the thoughts, and considering how often she'd teased Wynn about her compassion and excessive gentleness, she'd probably get a kick out of her lack of charity.
And that slang was all Fern and Wynn bit her lip, reminded all over again.