Sina shakes her head, but doesn't see how that relates-- she's heard enough stories, and doesn't understand why it's being described to her as something she didn't already know was awful. She watches Herian incredulously, pausing only to wipe her arm brusquely across her face.
"Elf-blooded," she repeats, more to solidify it in her mind than to cast it at the woman, "then you should know better." Her voice is quiet, if quavery with emotion.
"Do not speak to me as though I couldn't understand. Any cruelty imposed on you does not justify poisoning your own people against each other, dividing us all to be penned into filthy hovels or chased away and slaughtered at the whims of shem'len. How dare you!"

Her heart rate is rising, and with it comes a sudden and unexpected spurt of energy from the shard in Sina's chest, which staggers her briefly, but does not knock her over. Clutching it, she looks viciously back up at Herian. When she speaks again, her voice is breathy and strained, but no less intense.

"If you are of the elvhen, then you are the sister of me and mine. You're going to have to live with that."