I gaze down at her. She's so fucking beautiful that there are books about it. She’s unnaturally clever, raised for life in the public eye, trained in royal etiquette. She's funny and she's kind. Wise and empathetic. So why, fucking why, in seven hundred and fifty years of friendship could I never feel for her the same fire that I feel for Renna? "She feels for you too," she breathes, reading my mind as aquamarine eyes search mine.
