Zarayne
No siblings. And no mother. Zarayne adjusted the mental picture, reducing it down to the light-haired novice and the tattooed Gaidin. Just one parent and no siblings. Like me and mum.
The comparison sent a shiver up her spine.
The laughter irritated Zarayne like a ingrown nail would have. It was painful and uncomfortable, but it wasn't the toe's fault. Kaira Darrow did not mean to cause harm, but her words still hurt Zarayne. Ravak Darrow would not have enough child? Because he has one daughter, or he knows he has two? Clearly shame had not put him off fatherhood for life, as Kaira was clearly a few years Zee's junior.
The Aiel tried to ignore Kaira's attention and her words, renewing her attack against the floor. But images flickered in her mind of Kaira and her father, of Zarayne and her mother. Of Ravak and Sinead, then Kaira and Zarayne. They were fantasties, a series of 'what ifs' that were already 'never weres'. There was no Ravak Darrow and Sinead; no Zarayne and her wetlander sister. She struggled with the upset and with the fury, both pressing against an internal dam that could only hold back so much.
So Kaira Darrow wants to know about my siblings? Zarayne had no siblings! How could she have siblings when her father abandoned her mother, leaving her in the Three-fold Land alone! He didn't care for Sinead, and he certainly didn't care for her, if he even knew she existed at all! Her arm started to hurt from the vigour she was throwing into her actions.
The dam burst. Zarayne punched the floor, with the cloth barely muting the pain of striking floor tiles. The Aielwoman rose to her feet, fists balled up in fury. A small voice shouted that her anger was misplaced and illogical, but the torrent of grief and anger drowned that reasoning out.
"I didn't ask for a sister! I didn't ask for a father!" She spat the words venomously. "I didn't ask for this!" She stretched her arms out, indicating the walls of the corridor, but meaning the Grey Tower. A moment later and he punched one of the walls with the bottom of her hand. "I shouldn't even be here! I am not my mother!" If anything, that last statement was the one that sounded the most resentful.
Zarayne immediately slumped to the floor as the torrent of rage was utterly consumed. A sharp jolt of pain bloomed as her knees struck the ground, but the pain brought a little clarity. She dunked the cloth into the bucket, soaking a few inches of dress in the soapy water, then returned with little enthusiasm to her chore.