I said our hearts know deeper seasons than our memories
To be honest, Larke has little understanding of what sparked the war.
She was barely born by the time that it had started and her mother had always shielded her from the worst of it. She didn’t know about the way her mother’s mind had been fractured by the magic or the way that her father’s memory had been erased and how he had kick-started a capturing of healers, including her mother. How the scars of such actions had ripped open wounds and led to such a painful event.
So, for a moment, she just stands there, her brow furrowing.
“I honestly am not sure,” she finally answers, even though it feels foolish to admit. Her cheeks grow warm and she would blush if she was able—would blush to know that she is a leader of a territory and yet has little to no understanding of the current political climate. How foolish of a young girl she is.
Still, she rolls her shoulders, looking up from beneath her forelock. “What a silly answer.”
She laughs, to fill the silence, before her memory catches on what he had said before.
Curious, and more than a little interested, she studies his face. “So you’re immortal?” It is a strange idea to a girl so painfully mortal. She knows that her father has been around for years, and Magnus has come into immortality, and her mother now has a magic that acts as a kind of immortality, but it feels strange.
“Is it strange to think that you might never die?”
