Merete shook her head at Diamant’s apology. She did not blame him for the pain that his news had brought – he could not have known, and besides, she was glad that someone had been able to tell her. She had wondered, for years now, what had become of her family, and now she knew some of it at least. It was better than nothing, and for that she could only be grateful. “It’s fine,” she replied, although she felt anything but fine in her own mind. “I am glad that I know now.” At his question, Merete sighed. If he had known his parents, she guessed he would not have had to ask it. She wasn’t sure anyone could say they were truly close to the couple, unless they were inside it, but she supposed blood and a long childhood in the Arch with them was as close as family could be in her case. “Not really,” she began, shifting her weight as if the question were nothing. “Not since I was a child. I hadn’t seen them for years, I left the Islands a long time ago – my parents and my brother were still living here then – ours, I mean.” It still felt strange to correct herself like that. She imagined it would for a long time still. Merete had hardly noticed that dusk had fallen and the sky had darkened while they had been talking. Time had hardly seemed to have passed at all during all those revelations, but though the night was not pitch black at this time of year it was certainly upon them. The wind felt cold on her skin again, and swimming to the Crossing at this time seemed more unappealing than before. Although Merete could hardly imagine what else her new brother, still almost a stranger, could reveal, she knew there was still plenty for them to talk about, and so Diamant’s suggestion was a welcome one. With a nod of her head, she turned to follow him to a more sheltered spot and prepared to settle in for a long night ahead. |