There are tears on his face. I can sense them, even though his face is averted. My hand rises automatically to wipe them away-just the way I always have-but then I stop myself. These are tears of joy, after all.
He turns to me with his newborn boy ensconced in his powerful arms. 'Akka, will you do the same for him as you did for me? Will you? Promise me, akka.
Tears spring in my eyes, too, with the fierce love that surges in my heart. My nephew, my brother's little boy. How can I refuse him anything? I nod and smile, and touch the baby's soft cheek with my finger.
It is a lot to ask of me. I will be driven further into the world of politics, of wrangling, of men-and my soul is sometimes weary after what has gone before. And yet, my heart sings.
I taught my brother about power; I can do the same again.
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