“I want you to look at me and see me.” Layala tilted her head slightly. She knew that wasn’t the truth, at least not the whole truth. “I do.” “See me, Val. Not the Black Mage, not a stranger. I want you to remember the last time we danced together, and you wore that dress. I want you to know why when I look at you, I die a little inside, and...” “...And?” Layala sounded breathless. “And why sometimes I wish the council would have had a weapon to kill me for good and put me out of my fucking misery.”
