“Reyna, you don’t have to ‘earn’ me. You have me.” “Yes, and it’s baffling.” Reyna spoke like it was a common truth. Her eyes roamed the bookstore, the small touches Kianthe had added over the weeks. The plants. The paint. The ever-flame. A smile tilted her lips as she retrieved another book, stroked its leather cover. “I’m not sure I deserve this … but if I pay for it, that gives me something tangible. Proof, if anyone in the Queendom comes asking. If I come asking myself.”
