“It’s not really my city. The Vashchenko family has lived here since before it was Oblya, when there was just the steppe that ran right into the sea without anything to stop it. Before the land was lashed to bits and each scar was given a name like Kanatchikov Street. Oblya is a rude intruder to the place we’ve always known.” “And I am an intruder upon the intrusion?” Sevas arched a brow. “You don’t need to drag around your family history like an old dead dog.”
Damn. 😆
True, though. Very true,
