Besides, there were no taboos or implications regarding mother and daughter sharing a single man.
Strength sought strength. Vitality answered vitality.
The same blood that made Kira her daughter also made the girl a warrior of the tribe, and the same law that bound mother and child did not extend its hand into the furs once the night fires were lit.
What lived between a man and a woman in the dark belonged to the dark.
A Warchief who had broken the heavens and a man who had forced those heavens open were simply two forces that had collided and chosen to remain entangled.
That her daughter and she now shared that same man changed nothing fundamental in the eyes of the clan. There was no implication of shame, no ancestral prohibition waiting to be invoked.
So the momentary awkwardness of speaking the invitation in front of them was, in the end, meaningless.
