The memory of Benjimir’s true smile, his laugh, his insistence on getting her a new practice uniform, his sarcasm—it overwhelmed Gwendafyn. She couldn’t lose him. An elf loved forever. Benjimir had her heart now, whether he wanted it or not, and she’d do whatever was necessary to see him through this. The Evening Stars cannot help; they have their vows. Lesser Elves cannot help; they barely know how to fight. But I can.
