Pushing from the bed, I moved to the hearth where I hung my head and started finger combing the many tangles. The heat infused the thick locks, warmed my scalp till it tingled.
Sharp knocks sounded on the door. “Come in,” I called.
The latch clicked open, and I tilted my head to the side. Lead filled my spine from the unfortunate discovery of fair skin and dark curly hair, much like my own, except shorter.
“Hello, Sabie,” Sean said, in a solemn voice that was much lower than I remembered.
I stared at him for a few seconds before dropping my head back toward the fire. “I told you not to call me that. Now get out.”
He stepped closer. “Please, sister, we need to talk.”
“You’ve no right to call me that either. My brother died three years ago in the West Indies. You, sir, are a stranger to me.” Anger heated my blood, and the fire suddenly felt stifling. I stood, avoiding any form of eye contact as I marched over to the dressing table for my hairbrush.
In the mirror, I caught a glimpse of Sean near the door, arms crossed over his chest. “Do you intend to marry the Englishman?” he asked.
“That’s none of your business.” Starting at my crown, I yanked the brush downward with no amount of gentleness. Hairs snapped in the process, but I continued on, repeating the motion several more times.
Sean released a long breath. “It is my business whether you like it or not.”
I turned toward him, the brush temporarily forgotten at my side. “Oh, really? After all this time, you’re going to feign the protective brother?” My scathing tone dared him to try. “Well, it’s too late. You gave up that role the day you abandoned me.”
“I didn’t mean...” He swiped a rough hand over his face. “I never meant to abandon you.”
“That’s interesting. Were you being held captive?”
He shook his head. “Nothing like that. I—”
“Stranded on a deserted island?”
“No—”
“Suffered severe amnesia?”
“Of course not—”
“Then you must have forgotten how to post a letter, for I can think of no other reason to explain your behavior.”
He heaved another long breath. “Will you please stop being difficult?”
“Oh, I’ve earned the right to be difficult, and then some, so spare me the suffering Job.” I arched a mocking brow at him. “Or did you hope I would forget everything and just come running into your arms? So overcome with joy at seeing you alive, I would just forget the pain from the last three years. Is that what you expected?” For having nothing to say at first, I apparently had a mouthful.
“You of all people should understand why I had to leave.”
Furious, I stood, nearly upsetting the chair. “Don’t pretend that you had no choice in the matter. That it was something you had to do. No one chased you away, Sean. You left willingly after Mother died.”
“Father and I fought—”
“We were all grieving and felt responsible for what happened. But you didn’t see me running away.”
“Aarrh!” The air exploded from him this time. “How can you be so pigheaded? It wasn’t your responsibility to keep her safe! I had no other powers, Selah. No ability to heal or make swords. As goddess born, I had one task, to protect you and Mother. I failed. And I couldn’t stay anymore with the constant reminder of that failure. It was tearing me apart.” He dropped his head as though the weight of his grief had become too much.
A large lump formed in my throat. Silence settled between us as I just stared at the top of his dark head. Seconds passed and I didn’t know what to say.
Did Father know all of this?
Was that why he never spoke ill of Sean? Or why he refused to fight the sickness the second time around? Because he also felt that he had somehow failed our mother, and then in turn, failed Sean when word of his death arrived from the West Indies. Over time, did he come to view himself as unworthy to continue as my protector?
My forehead scrunched over the thoughts. It made sense in a defeatist sort of way. Which meant my father had seen the sickness as a form of godly punishment—with his life being offered as the final penance.
Had I judged my brother too harshly? Did his actions merit a second consideration?
All the time Sean’s been here, he never talked of any sisters. Never talked of anyone for that matter, other than his dead mam.
Brian’s words struck again with the force of a slap. I gave my head a hard shake, clearing away any sentimental feelings or thoughts of forgiveness. Sean didn’t deserve pity. He deserved the truth, same as I had faced it months ago.
Squaring my shoulders, I smoothed my expression to stone. “Father is dead, you know. He died last May.”
Sean started. He jerked his gaze back to mine, pain filling his pale blue eyes. “How did it happen?”
“He succumbed to a prolonged illness.”
Confusion pulled at my brother’s face. “He got sick?”
I nodded.
“Then why the hell didn’t you heal him?”