Ethan
Rowan’s chestnut hair was falling around his face, casting long shadows over our sharp, shared features. Looking at him was almost like looking in a mirror sometimes but with lighter, wavier hair. He had my build and my height, and there had been times when someone had approached him from behind, thinking it was me, and vice versa.
But he had his mother’s emotionally driven personality. He was sensitive, shy, and somewhat boyish in demeanor. I had hoped sending him to Red Lakes would break him out of it.
But as we sat in Rowan’s lodgings, a big log cabin overlooking a large bluff leading down to the sea below, I could see I had been very, very wrong.
Kacidra was sitting on the other side of the living room, her hands folded in her lap. She was the one Rowan was supposed to marry.
