—From The Minotaur
What did she wish to know? That was easy: Lily wanted to know who Caliban truly was—a name, an identity, something to place him in the world in relation to her.
But he couldn’t answer that, she knew, so she started with a simpler inquiry.
“You seem to know about family.” The sun was beginning to set and even with the smell of burnt wood, the garden was a magical place. Birds had begun their evening song around them in the golden rays. “Do you have family?”
He nodded. “I have… a sister.”
She smiled up at him, into his muddy-brown eyes surrounded by such beautiful, lush lashes. She was relieved that he’d answered that much—hadn’t rejected her question out of hand. “Older or younger?”
A corner of his wide mouth cocked up. “The exact same… age as I.”
“A twin!” She grinned in delight. “What’s her name?”
He shook his head gently.
But she wasn’t so easily disappointed now that he’d let her in a little. “Very well. Do you like her?”
“Very much.” He paused as if searching for words. “She is… the dearest thing… to me… in the world.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “Oh, how sweet.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You make me… sound a little boy.”
“I don’t mean to,” she said earnestly. “I think one’s family, the people one keeps close to oneself, are very important. I don’t think I could like a man who didn’t value others.”
“And… do you like me?”
She wagged her finger at him. “I’m not so easily lured as all that. Now. Were you born in London?” She turned, swinging their hands as she meandered down one of the paths.
“No.”
She pouted. “In a city?”
“No.”
Her eyes widened in exasperation. “In England?”
“Yes, I am… an Englishman,” he said, and then relented. “I was… born in the country.”
“North or south?”
“South.”
“By the coast?”
“No.” He slid an amused glance her way. “There were… farmlands. And a pond… quite nearby. My… sister and I learned to… swim in it.”
“And you had a mother and a father.” She looked down at the charred path because most people did have both a mother and a father growing up—just not she, it seemed.
“Yes,” he answered gently, “though… they’re both dead now.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He shrugged.
“Were you close?” she asked too fast, her words running together. “Did you have a happy childhood with a father who worked and brought home money and a mother who mended your socks?”