Over the past two years, they’d developed a roommate shorthand, almost a silent language. Not exactly like a parabatai, Simon thought, and not exactly like a best friend. But not something less than. Not something he ever wanted to leave behind for good. “You’re right, George. I do have more than enough best friends.” George’s face fell, so slightly that only someone who knew him as well as Simon would have noticed. “But there’s something else I’ve never had,” Simon added. “At least until now.” “What’s that?” “A brother.” The word felt right. Not someone you chose—someone the fates assigned
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