It was the next day and her parents rushed to ready the carriage to go home. Her brother wouldn't be able to make this trip with them. He had to do his knight training. Their uncle Thomas would oversee him along with his adopted son, Vincent. Their uncle held the title of Viscount and lost his wife in childbirth. The baby had died a few days later.
Her father had went to encourage him to find a son, if not a new wife. Uncle Thomas loved his wife dearly but knew he had to find an heir for his noble status. When he came back to meet them, he had brought the new boy. Vincent was the same age as Cayden. He had dark green hair and green eyes.
When she curtsied in greeting, her handkerchief had fallen. They both reached for it but she retrieved it first. She smiled a little in thanks. He didn't say anything and kept his head down. His face was gaunt, as if he had starved before. His frame was frail. Anemone assumed her uncle adopted him from an orphanage. She walked towards Cayden.
"Brother, make sure you practice diligently. I had better not hear you slacking," she warned, stopping in front of him. His eyes welled up in tears.
"Sister..." he cried. "I don't want you to go..."
It would be their first time separating. She understood why he was upset. With her gone, maybe he would be better in his role. "Cayden, be good. Don't cause trouble for uncle," she said before pausing. "I'll be back after a month."
Cayden hugged her suddenly, wailing. Awkwardly, she patted his back. "Please come back soon!" he cried.
She tried to push away but he held tightly. Making a face, she pried him off with difficulty. Their uncle came and helped her. "Come now, Cayden. Your sister needs to go."
She made a face, looking at his dirty face. She took her handkerchief and wiped his cheeks. "Ta-take care of yourself," she stuttered as she shoved the handkerchief in his hands and walked away. Her mother had finished telling the servants where to put the luggage.
They would be taking two carriages. One was for Anemone and her mother. The other was for the luggage. Her father would ride with the guards, keeping them safe. She looked at her father's black steed in enviousness. It would be wonderful if she could ride instead of keeping her mother company.
Her mother pushed her into the carriage and got in with her. Anemone straightened her brown gown before sitting. Her mother sat across from her and waved a handkerchief out to the men. She was crying and telling them to take care. She looked away from the window, not caring to say bye. When her mother shot a look at her, she halfheartedly waved.
She watched her brother cry in her handkerchief. The carriage pulled away and she breathed a sigh of relief. Anemone didn't know why he cried like a kid. She realized her error and corrected herself. He was still a kid, since he was eight years old. Or five? At least he'll be in good hands with their uncle.