My Cobalt brethren telling Luna about her dog-shit ex-boyfriend is back-stabby, traitorous behavior. Something no friend or Musketeer would do. But like I’ve known, they’re her friends, her Musketeers. Not mine. So they’re true to Luna, and I can’t fault ‘em, especially if she asked outright. As much as I’ve looked up to the Cobalt Empire—been close to their brother Beckett too—Tom and Eliot don’t owe me anything. Not a sock, not a toothbrush, not loyalty. I’ve done nothing to earn that sort of devotion from them. On top of that beautifully steep mountain I haven’t tried to climb,
