6

“Thanks.” I bury my face in his chest, and I must dirty his clothes with all the oil paint, but I don’t release him. Because for the first time since the ordeal, I can finally let go. I feel safe from everything. My own head included. My fingers dig into my brother’s back and he holds me. Silently. This is why I love Bran the most. He knows how to be an anchor. He knows how to be a brother. Unlike Lan. After a while, we break apart, but he doesn’t allow me to leave. Instead, he perches down to stare at me. “What is it, little princess?” That’s what Dad calls me. Little princess. Mum is the original princess. The one Dad worships at her altar and makes all her dreams come true. I’m the princess’s daughter and, therefore, the little princess. I wipe at the moisture in my eyes. “Nothing, Bran.” “You don’t sneak to the basement at five in the morning, paint this, and then say it’s nothing. It can be every word under the sun, but nothing should not be on the menu.” I grab a palette and star