Love and Bounty

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Dear Brother

Once Deeja and Hrolf were a relatively secluded part of the Grotto—far from the prying eyes of the other Blackbloods—the overwhelmed Argonian took a seat at a dusty old table and invited Hrolf to sit as well.

She tried not to crinkle the parchment or spill any ink, but her hands wouldn't stop shaking. With every move she made, she imagined Jaree-Ra popping out from around the corner and berating her for wanting to fix things with her own kin—their own flesh and blood.

Not that Jaree-Ra was utterly incapable of that between him and Deeja. When she tried to speak to him a day prior, Jaree-Ra was sullen and sour. He didn't refuse her, but the table of his planning room had never created such distance between them before. The glint in his eyes was uncertain. Unreadable. Maybe even unwelcoming.

But she was going to do it—she was going to make a choice that was entirely hers to make, whether Jaree-Ra liked it or not. She couldn't let the pit in her ribs when she thought of Galum-Jei sit for any longer, not when years had passed with so much animosity left to fester.

Hrolf asked if she was alright rather suddenly, sitting attentively in his seat. Deeja tried her best not to flinch. "I-I'm... fine," she stammered. "I just have a lot on my mind."

Hrolf nodded. "I get that. Is this about what I think it is?"

Deeja's scaly brow perked up. Either he was getting more cunning or she was getting easier to read. But the words were stuck in her throat—all she could manage was a nod.

"How can I help?" he asked.

Deeja sighed. "I know how I feel about things but... I don't know how to put them into words."

She stared down at the empty piece of parchment, and it practically mocked her with its plain face and slight creases. All of her rage wanted to fall down upon that paper—to wad it into a little ball and throw it in the stream running through the Grotto or tear it to shreds with her claws—but she didn't want to risk sneaking another from her brother's office. Jaree-Ra couldn't know she was doing this. Even a little bit of suspicion was the last thing she needed right now.

"Well..." Hrolf paused. "I'm sorry, but that's really the only way to tell him how you feel."

Deeja fought the urge to bare his teeth at him while her tail thrashed behind her. "I know, Hrolf," she grumbled. "But where do I even start?"

"Have you tried 'dear brother'?"

Deeja's eyelid twitched as she tightened her jaw. Sithis, give me the patience to deal with this oaf.

"I'm serious," Hrolf said. "Maybe the empty page is what's tripping you up."

Deeja's heart welled with uncertainty, each beat pounding in her fingertips. Maybe he was right, but what if Jaree-Ra saw? Then he'd know for sure. There would be no covering it up then.

Hrolf just looked at her with that same look he always gave her when they'd talk like this. That's when she knew he was really listening. "Just try it? Please?"

Deeja grumbled and turned her attention to the page. Without another word, she dipped the quill in ink and got to writing:

'Dear Brother,'

...

Nothing else came.

Deeja sighed, a little louder this time. She planted her elbows on the table and held her cheeks in her palms, blinking harshly to stave off the sting in her eyes—the sting of frustration. She couldn't cry right now—not in front of her brother or Hrolf or anybody.