Maren made a decision at sixteen months.
The decision was: Davan.
Not obviously — nothing Maren did was obvious. She proceeded through the world in the specific Malketh fashion of assessment before commitment, which meant the decision had probably been building since the hospital room and had only reached formal implementation now.
The implementation looked like this: Maren walked to where Davan was sitting and sat beside her. Not across from her, not near her. Directly beside her, shoulder to shoulder, sharing the same direction of looking.
And stayed there.
Sera, watching from across the room: "She's adopted her."
"Davan can't walk yet," Draven said. "Maren can't—"
"She's adopted her," Sera said.
Draven looked at his daughter sitting beside a thirteen-month-old as if this were he
