If there’s a flicker of jealousy there, I’m used to it. Nothing in this world is ever entirely mine. Not a home. Not a possession. Certainly not a romantic partner. Even Ursa, whom I care about far more than is wise, will never be mine in truth. I might be hers, but that’s hardly the same thing at all. She’s got walls upon walls, and she’s spent most of her life making sure no one comes near. I’m
