"Took you long enough."
She replied coolly, curtly, without fire.
A definition of indifference in the classic sense.
But Lyrium, in his darkened dorm room, saw differently.
The fact that she'd picked up on the first ring, the hesitation before she replied slight cracks in the ice she attempted to construct between them.
He smiled to himself.
"Ah? Waiting for my call, Big sister?"
"Don't flatter yourself."
A scoff.
"I was just wondering if you'd finally grown a brain cell and thought you should call."
Lyrium sat back on the bed, his eyes up at the ceiling.
This was nearly nostalgic.
Nearly.
Aside from the fact that any of this shouldn't have existed.
He wasn't Lyrium Blackwood.
Not exactly.
He was other, other than elsewhere, put in this body, to be a brother to a woman who, in the original novel, wasn't even meant to love him.
No, Rihana Blackwood was meant to be other's.
The hero's.
Silas.
