Perhaps, in some way, he would understand what drove his daughter. All things drink from dead waters when driven to desperation. Talitha was no different; she believed her duty to her family was the singular driving purpose in her life. If she discounted her talents and her skills as she did, this was all that remained. A womb, a carrier—she could pass along holy blood and bring about children who would succeed the de le Poer name. It might even save her, these damned things, if she learned to love them.
He was used to her shadow, and so dismissed it. It pleased Gabriel to know that the little healer was caring for his daughter. Enkiel was still an enigma to him, and to imagine he might find kinship with Talitha of all people was astounding. Still, her moods had improved slightly since they had begun spending time together. This couldn’t be said for Ezekiel, who had become short-tempered and reckless as of late. “Make sure your…mate feeds you well. You don’t want that brother of yours hovering over you; your mother hated my persistence,” he added with a light chuckle. “Of course, I was feeding her and three other mouths, so that made me a bit crazy.” Especially with Andre behaving as he did.
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