The weight on my chest was Riley’s head.Apparently, she’d crawled up on the bed during the night and went to sleep with her head on my chest. Bone... pillow if you ask me. She was wearing a white silk blouse that in her present position gaped open showing rather more than she usually exposed.All right. A lot more.I could see the bandage above her right breast and under her arm, where Oksamma’s bullet had struck. The bastard. If he weren’t dead, I’d get out of this bed and go kill him. To harm. I believed her. There was something serious in Pyrriah that had never been in her. This iron in her eyes and her spine. This fight was bringing some part of her that had long been buried in her. It made her so different from me. I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t march into the arena.I couldn’t defy our brother the way she did.What made her different from me? Was it our mothers? That had to be it. Even though we looked identical, save for our hair color, we had different mothers. That had to affect. More

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