“Zerra,” I say. “I have a mate. We can’t get married.” “You just said you were staying.” “Yes, but I’m not marrying you. I can’t.” She shoves me in a playful way, but it’s a bit too forceful to be believable. My chair nearly tips due to her strength, and I grunt as I right myself. “Don’t be silly. Your mate won’t be alive much longer.”
WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN
