"This is for you." Her father, behind her, placed a carved Ivory handle on the table in front of her. "It's from yer' brother. Something about a bet. He's in his room right now, preparing for his trip, where you should be, but I'll get to that in a second." Burret put a callused hand on his daughter's back. She still held her face and wouldn't look at him. "I know what yer' feel'n, Amythra. It's yer' brother's decision, tho."
She shrugged off his hand. "You don't know what I'm thinking, Father! How could you?" Angry red eyes turned toward him, but she still wouldn't let him see her face. "And how could you let him go. He'll die out there!"
Burret sighed a heavy sigh and pulled a chair next to her. "He's of age, Amythra, and that means old enough to decide for himself."
"You don't care, do you."
"Now don't be like that, lass." He didn't sit down beside her, instead he fingered the back of the chair awkwardly. "Look, that's not why I called you home, tho it should'a been reason enough. I called you back because yer brother can't make the deliveries to the city anymore. Not with his consignment to the Colonial Army. Open the bag. Everything but the wooden box is yer's now."