theres an old man sitting on a throne thats saying...
Tired eyes narrowed at his defensive response, and the young mare squared her shoulders and prepared herself for one of their legendary fights. He took a few steps away from her, possibly a result of the hurt and anger she felt radiating off of both of their young bodies.
Iset blinked in shock at the words that left her elder brother’s mouth. They ignited another wave of hot fury, and for a moment she was too stunned to speak. When she finally brought herself to speak, she exploded. A cruel laugh escaped her lips before she cared to stop it. “Sorry? You’re sorry? You left us there to die!” She kept on her rampage, not giving him a chance to stop her. “And don’t you dare deny it, because thats exactly what would have ended up happening! At least, if I had stayed.” She said the last bit in a whisper; those words were her guilt and part of the reason her conscience felt so unclean.
She forced herself not to sympathize with her brother, because at least she knew Sakir wouldn’t be harmed in the Dunes. Her twin would be safe, because Amet was right; he was the favorite. He was the peacekeeper, the docile one. Also known as the exact opposite of her.
She took slow, deep breaths as Sakir had once taught her. She felt the heat inside her begin to cool and she finally felt calm enough to meet Amet’s eyes. “Well,” she started, “At least you’re right about one thing.” She couldn’t keep the biting tone out of her words, and had no real desire to. “We can’t keep going like this. We need somewhere to go.” Scathing eyes met his once more, “That is, of course, if you even want me with you."
...I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut