“Y ou have little understanding of the gravity of this matter Aster.”
Aster digs her heels into the tiled floor beneath her feet. “I bid you then give me an explanation.”
She is shaken. She had expected fury disappointment. But not this… fear.
Papa gives a long sigh and then he crosses the room and sits down on Mama’s rocking chair. Aster stares. He never sits there. She never sits there. Only Clara has taken to sitting there of late and Aster can’t help but interpret it as a gesture of defiance: What of our history? What of all that is sacred?
