[/html]Family was a loaded word, in part because Cassandra had always known of Inferni. From the earliest stories, the thing she took away the most was the fact that she had many, many relatives, and that the shared blood spiraled through hundreds of individuals across a half dozen generations or more. She knew that the name Lykoi lived everywhere, across their continent, across the sea, across seas beyond that. She knew there was madness and betrayal in the blood, and she knew that family meant nothing.
But Myrika and Kharma had been more than just family, more than just her closest of many relatives. They had been her caretakers, and they had loved her. Loved her still, if she would believe it, though they did not know her anymore. And her own feelings were balled up somewhere in the middle of her chest, tangled in with everything else; they were not clear enough to verbalize, exactly, but the conviction she felt in her threat was as fierce as anything.
"Perhaps not." A sneer found her face again. "How long have you been together? How long have you been second-in-command?"
Distantly, she thought of what it might be like to be skinned alive. Betraying was in their blood, and though Cassandra could not fathom the circumstances where she might sin against her sister, she could not believe that it would never happen.
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