“Fletching, the sera—” Her lips stilled at the sight of my table companion. “Fletching Naya, what do you think you’re doing here?” “I was spending time with my friend.” Her hands were linked together on the quartz tabletop as though she was in the middle of a business negotiation. I found myself smiling at how she didn’t quiver or balk. “Your . . . friend?” Rude much, Ophan? Was I not worthy of friends? Naya shifted on her seat. “Celeste and I are friends.”
