Anastasia

by Sophie Lark

midnight rain,

“You have an affinity for magic.”

“People are keys, Anastasia. Sometimes they’re a common key to a common lock, sometimes the only key of their type in existence. A few unlucky, misshapen keys can open nothing at all. And then

“There are skeleton keys …” I knew it.

“You can learn magic.”

“If I wanted to take something from your mind, I would take it. That was me being polite.”

“Magic and faith are not as different as you might think.”

I wondered if Anastasia was still sleeping. And who she had danced with the night before.

Do you think I got an accent living in the city so long? You have one, but I always liked it. —D

Even though we fought all the time and agreed on nothing, he was my best friend. Every time I saw him, I lit up inside.

The writing made me think of the way she ran, one hand crushing a hat against her head if she’d been forced to wear one, other yanking up her skirts, legs churning away beneath. She always ran flat out, looking as if she’d trip any moment. But she wasn’t as clumsy as she looked. Sometimes she was almost graceful—dancing or riding. Anytime she moved in tandem with Artemis, arms reaching upward like wings. I saw her red hair against a blue sky, clear as I’ve ever seen anything. And my heart lifted. I hadn’t even opened the letter. That was all from the slant of the way she wrote my name.

The fact that he got that just from er handwriting

Stay alive, please. I’ve never asked you for anything before. So I may as well start with the hardest and most important thing. —A

“Be wary, as a thief in another’s mind. Had I put one of those fingers though your eye, you might not find yourself so untouched in the real world. The mind is a powerful thing. If you believe you’re blind … you might be.”