I crossed the space between us, and even though I was the shorter, weaker sister, I hauled her into my arms. She squirmed. My sister wasn’t great at giving hugs, but I hugged her anyway. For every hug that I’d been denied, I always tried to give Mae two. The same was true with Arthalayus. Every morning, I went to the nursery to hug my little brother. I held Mae closer, tighter, until she finally sagged against my frame and hugged me back. She might be taller, stronger, prettier, but I was still her sister, and though it usually took coaxing, she indulged my hugs.
