Author's Note: Hello! Welcome to the Day 1 of the 7 Day of Christmas! Okay, so I know what you're thinking. L.C., you're two days late. I know, and I apologize. I had a last minute motion that I had to write, so it put me a little behind. So now, we'll just be going two days past Christmas! Hopefully it helps the post-Christmas slump. So enjoy, and please review :) Tomorrow's update will be IWESTS if it kills me haha.
Though she would have taken back Naomi's accident in a heartbeat if she could, Lydia had to admit there was one upside to her sister's condition.
Growing up, she'd hardly realized how left out Cohen often was. He was the youngest of three, as well as the only boy. He'd often been bored by his sisters' activities, or if he was interested—such as in Lydia's flying—he'd be shooed away or declared a pain if Collette and Ezra insisted he be allowed to partake.
But now, Cohen was all Lydia had. Losing her sister had opened her eyes to how much she'd taken her brother for granted, and she'd tried to change that situation as much as she could every day since Naomi's accident. Maybe they'd never be as close as she and Naomi were, or she'd never fully understand what went on in the head of a teenage boy, but she tried, and she hoped that meant something.
Her latest way of showing she cared was reciprocating the breach of Collette's dietary standards that Cohen had committed to bring her cake a couple of weeks ago. It was early, so she'd decided on crepes instead of an actual dessert, but they were made with real sugar that she'd bribed a kitchen worker to bring for her. She wasn't actually a good cook, but Tom was usually willing to help her try, and she was pretty proud of what they'd managed.
Cohen's butler let her in, and the blonde teenager looked groggy and annoyed at the early wake up call until he noticed the tray that Lydia held. "Please tell me there's something unhealthy under that," he requested as he jumped out of bed.
"It's turkey bacon and egg whites," Lydia admitted, "but I did manage a little something." She revealed the crepes, complete with powdered sugar and whipped cream.
Cohen groaned appreciatively as he dropped onto the couch beside her and reached for a plate. "You're not half bad for a sister," he noted.
Lydia snorted as she dug into her own crepe. "I guess I'm going to mark that down in the compliment category," she decided.
They ate in silence for a while, enjoying their rare foray into the world of unhealthy deliciousness. When his plate was almost empty, Cohen asked, "So, how are all your boyfriends?"
The reference to just how many people she was technically dating at the moment made her laugh. "I assume they're fine," she shrugged, "You probably know them about as well as I do at this point."
Cohen gave a sly smile, like he hadn't been heeding their parents very specific instructions not to use his power to eavesdrop. "Some of them are pretty cool," he admitted.
"Yeah?" Lydia replied, an eyebrow raised in subtle interest. "Like who?"
"Shiv's cool, Charlie's cool," he ticked off, "Pascal's funny, but I think some of them—Joey and Alistair, mostly—have thought about killing him basically every day."
Lydia paused, chewing her lip. "Do you think Joey's… okay?" she asked.
Cohen shrugged. "I haven't really talked to him much," he explained, "He mostly keeps to himself. He smokes a lot, which I think is going to give Mom an aneurism." He paused, and his expression turned teasing. "Why? Do you liiiike him?"
Lydia's cheeks burned with embarrassment at being asked something like that by her brother. "No!" she countered. "It's just… I don't know, every time I talk to him, it's like we end up fighting, and I guess I'm not sure if it's me or him or the Selection."
With a quickness that she couldn't have fended off, Cohen grabbed the last piece of her crepe off her plate. "I think he's just like that," Cohen decided with a shrug as he chewed, "Just like gruff and grumpy, you know. Like Great Uncle Henry."
"Delightful," Lydia sighed.
Before she could ask any more questions, Cohen's butler reappeared, trailed by Ezra and Collette. They were both dressed casually, and Collette looked excited. "There you two are!" she beamed. "Your father and I thought this morning would be perfect for a family run."
Although Ezra tried to fix them with a 'don't you dare' expression, Lydia and Cohen both groaned dramatically. The thought of running after the enormous crepes she'd just inhaled made Lydia feel ill already. She briefly wondered if her mom had received a tip about the real sugar and had decided a run would serve as their punishment.
"Can we raincheck?" Lydia asked hopefully.
"No, my love, you can't take a raincheck on your cardiovascular health," Collette declared. She kissed the top of Lydia's head and paused. "What smells so sweet?"
Suddenly, Cohen and Lydia were both on their feet. "Alright, we'll meet you outside in ten, I suppose," Lydia declared. She glanced at Cohen's butler. "Hey, Frank, can you take these down to the kitchen?" Silently, she added 'immediately' with her eyes. The butler complied, although Collette followed the plates with a suspicious eye.
They reconvened on the front steps of the palace. Lydia wore a pair of black spandex running capris and a white t-shirt that bore the saying "will run for donuts." Because Lydia found it hilarious (and partially because it annoyed her mom), all her workout shirts bore some reference to junk food.
The palace grounds were expansive and thus the perfect location for all Collette's running needs. She always sketched a brief track out for them—today was around the gardens, up a hill, through the woods, and back past the stables. Lydia tried not to groan as she realized her mother had picked a particularly hilly path. She wouldn't be sore like everyone else post-run thanks to her healing, but that didn't mean that her muscles and lungs couldn't ache while she was doing it.
Collette usually led the pack, with Cohen close on her heels, and Ezra and Lydia at the back. Naomi used to join their mother at the front. Today, Lydia and Ezra hung far back. She got the feeling that her dad's particularly slow pace meant he wanted to talk to her. "Everything okay?" she asked.
"Just getting old," Ezra chuckled. "What about you? Things good?"
She had a feeling he was talking about the Selection but didn't exactly feel inclined to provide information about her dating life. "Yep," she nodded with a bright smile, "everything's great."
Her evasion wasn't deterrent enough though. "I know the Selection can be a little… well, uncomfortable at times," Ezra admitted, "but has everyone been nice to you? You know we'll take care of it if anyone is rude or oversteps boundaries or—"
"Everyone's been great," she assured him, "I think Aunt Avery has put the fear of god into them a little bit."
"She's good at that," Ezra chortled. "She says that you haven't spent as much time with them as she thought you'd be. Am I giving you too much work?"
Despite the burning in her thighs and the stitch in her side, Lydia still somehow managed to be overcome with guilt. "No," she assured him, "I've just been… easing my way in."
He nodded. "Anyone standout to you yet? I like the pizza boy. I think your mom has a soft spot for the one from Sonage, but if you don't feel prepared to handle a child—"
"Dad," Lydia laughed, "I don't know that this conversation could be more painful between the awkwardness and the running."
Ezra laughed. "Okay," he relented. "We can talk about it some other time. I just want you to know that you can talk to me, Lyd."
"I know that," she assured him, even if her father wasn't at the top of the list of people that she planned on discussing her love life with.
"About anything," Ezra emphasized. He looked like he was going to reach out to pat her on the shoulder. Lydia knew that she had less control over her powers when her body was being taxed, as it was at that moment, so she sped up to avoid the contact. Her biggest fear was accidentally healing her father and having him remember just how much she'd screwed everything up.
She tried to ignore the look of disappointment on his face as she jogged away from him.
Collette gave in to the peer pressure of Lydia and Cohen's complaints after their third mile, and they stopped near the stables. Lydia and Cohen both dramatically fell into a field of grass while Collette rolled her eyes and Ezra chuckled. "You act like I'm torturing you," the queen noted.
"I mean, basically," Cohen decided.
"Is it still torture if there's a reward involved?" Collette asked.
Lydia and Cohen both looked up. "What kind of reward?"
"What about frozen yogurt?" the queen suggested.
"Barely a dessert, but I'll take it," Cohen decided, jumping to his feet. "You in, Lyds?"
Lydia sat up but didn't move to join her family. "You guys go ahead," she offered, trying to keep her smile steady. "I don't know that I could eat anything right now, and I sort of had a plan with one of the Selected that I should get ready for."
Her parents looked disappointed, but Collette wished her luck on her date, and the three of them started back to the castle, leaving Lydia sitting in the grass alone. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them for a moment, trying to chase away the overwhelming feeling of loneliness.
It wasn't that she didn't want to spend time with her family. She did. She always did. But she knew it was risky. If she accidentally got too close and healed any of them… She would never forget the pain and anger in her parents' eyes when they had heard what she'd done to Naomi. She couldn't bear to see it again.
And aside from that, it didn't feel fair. Naomi had already lost three years of her life. What kind of sister would Lydia be if she spent that time making family memories without Naomi, while her sister laid in a magically induced sleep that was directly Lydia's fault?
No, she wouldn't do that to Naomi. She'd already hurt her sister too much.
She gave herself five good breaths to be sad before she stood up and started to make her way back towards the palace. On her way, she passed the fairy-made lake that had been added to the palace grounds at Naomi's request when they were children. Usually, only ducks made much use of it. But today, they had company.
Gabriel Alba's face lit up when he noticed Lydia approaching. "Good morning!" he called, waving. He was dressed in a pair of swim trunks and standing on what looked like a short surfboard, an oar guiding him through the water.
"What are you doing?" Lydia asked, a little amused by the way he'd unbalanced himself by waving and the wobble that his board did.
"Stand-up paddle boarding!" Gabe explained.
"Have you ever done it before?" she continued as he wobbled again, this time a little more dangerously.
"No," laughed Gabe, "but Leif and Skadi told me it was fun, so I had to try it." He used the oar to steer himself a little closer to the dock. "Do you want to try?"
Lydia glanced at her workout clothes. "I'm not exactly dressed for swimming," she pointed out.
"Well, then, I'll have to be very careful to make sure we don't fall," he declared, his face lit up by his endearing, dimpled smile. He stopped close enough that she could step onto the board and held a hand out to her. "Trust me. It'll be fun."
His excitement was so infectious that before she'd given it a second thought, she'd shed her socks and shoes and stepped onto the board. They figured out it was easiest if Lydia sat towards the front of the board while Gabriel stood behind her and steered. It was more calming than she'd expected it to be.
"Leif and Skadi were right," she declared as she closed her eyes and turned her face up towards the sun to bask in its warmth. The sweat from her run had dried, and she was almost worried that she smelled, but Gabe didn't comment on it if she did.
"Do you workout often?" Gabe asked with a nod at her outfit.
Lydia laughed. "Only when my mother coerces us," she explained. "One of the… perks, I suppose, of my power is that I don't really need to. I've always been a healthy weight, don't have any health problems that I need to offset…" She shrugged. "Mom likes to include me while everyone's suffering, though."
He laughed. "That's kinda nice," he noted. "Doing family things together."
She thought of Naomi, and her heart ached. She decided to deflect the attention. "Are you and your family close?"
"Abuela and I are," he nodded. It almost looked like he was determined not to think about what constituted the rest of the family that she referred to.
"Are you missing home?" Lydia asked. She'd wondered over the last few days whether the Selected were homesick. She hoped they weren't, since she knew how painful it could be to miss someone you loved.
"Not at all," Gabe countered, "Just Abuela. But I call her every day, so it's been okay so far."
"I've never been to Midston," Lydia mused, recalling that it was Gabe's province.
"Oh yeah?" There was a forced note of casualness in his voice. "I swear there was some big hullabaloo a few years ago about the princess visiting with the King when he came to the Duke's 80th birthday."
Despite the sunshine on her skin, Lydia froze like she'd been dipped into an ice bath, the hair on the back of her neck standing on edge and her arms prickled with goosebumps. "No, I think Cohen went with Dad to that," she countered, trying not to trip over her words as she lied. "Prince, not princess."
The truth was, a princess had accompanied Ezra to that event. Naomi. But there was no way that Gabriel Alba should have been able to remember that.
He sounded somewhat disappointed when he agreed, "Yeah, I think you're right now that I think about it."
She glanced around, desperate to get his mind off the topic. "What's that?" she asked as she leaned over the edge of the board. Gabe leaned with her, and it was just enough to upset their delicate balance and send them both tumbling into the lake. When they surfaced, Gabe was laughing, and Lydia was able to relax again.
"Sorry about that," chuckled Gabe, "Everyone back home knows I'm a giant klutz, only fair that you know now, too."
"It's okay," Lydia assured him with a smile, "Grace isn't exactly my forte either."
Together, they managed to climb back onto the paddle board. It was difficult for Gabe to stand up again without threatening to send them back into the water, so he sat across from Lydia. "You're bleeding," she frowned when she glanced at his foot. Out of habit, she reached out, but when the warm, gold healing light disappeared, the line of blood was still on Gabe's foot.
He splashed some water on it to wash it away. "Must've scraped it on a rock," he shrugged, sounding unbothered.
Lydia continued to frown at his foot, which eventually made him laugh. "Everything okay?"
"I don't like that," she realized.
Gabe looked confused. "Uh, blood…?"
"No," she countered, "Not being able to heal you." She thought about it for a second before she realized, "It's never happened before."
"Don't feel bad. It's my power," he explained, "Barrier. No one's magic works on me."
She considered it. "Kind of weird," she admitted, "Magic is the reason you can't feel magic."
"The irony ain't lost on me," Gabe assured her. "Sometimes, I'm a little jealous. Some people have awesome powers."
She thought of how different things might've been if she or Naomi had possessed a barrier power. "I don't think it's bad at all," she countered, "Magic isn't always all it's cracked up to be."
He clearly didn't agree but didn't try to argue with her. She briefly thought about how someone else—like Joey, perhaps—would've responded in Gabe's shoes. It probably would've ended with them trying to drown each other.
"Tell me something," she decided, trying to move past the heavy subject of magic. "About your life or things that you like to do."
"Okay," Gabe nodded, "but you have to tell me something, too."
"Deal," Lydia smiled.
Gabe considered the question for a moment before he declared, "I love cows."
Her first reaction was to laugh. "Cows?"
"They're the best," Gabe declared, "So calm and sweet."
"That is a very random favorite animal," commented Lydia.
"I'm a ranch hand," shrugged Gabe, "I spend a lot of time with cows."
"I don't remember the last time I saw a cow in person," Lydia admitted.
"Maybe I'll get to introduce you to one sometime," Gabe replied. He said it casually, like it would only be natural for him to introduce the princess to one of his favorite cows. "Now, come on. Your turn."
She thought for a few minutes. There were superficial things she could tell him—her favorite color, something fun about being royalty, a movie she really liked. But surprisingly, she wanted to share something deeper. She chalked it up to not having a lot of people to talk to candidly since Naomi's accident.
"I have my pilot's license," she declared.
It had the surprising effect she had expected. "Really?" Gabe sounded completely shocked.
Lydia smiled. "I used to love flying," she admitted, glancing up at the clouds. There was a time when all she had wanted to do was being in the sky. When she was the spare, all she'd wanted to do was be a pilot, and it had actually been within her grasp.
"Not anymore?" Gabe asked, seeming to have picked up on her past tense.
"I don't have a lot of time for it anymore," she told him. It was true. She had only flown once after Naomi's accident. "I miss it," she added, being more honest than she had intended.
Gabe looked determined. "Well, we should do it sometime!"
Lydia laughed. "You'd get into a plane with someone you barely know?"
"I mean, I entered a contest to marry someone I barely know," Gabe laughed with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Why not, you know?"
"Touché," giggled Lydia.
"I'm serious, Giggles," Gabe declared, "We're doing this. I gotta see Her Royal Highness behind the wheel of a plane."
She picked up on the casual nickname. It was a lot friendlier than the ones Joey had used when she'd first met him. "My Dad used to call me Giddy Lydie," she commented.
"It seems pretty fitting, from what I've seen," Gabe smiled.
Ezra hadn't called her it in years. Lydia supposed it was partially because, no matter how hard she tried, she'd never managed to be the same carefree, genuinely happy person she had been before. A small part of her had always wondered if he'd stopped calling her that because he couldn't love her the same after he'd found out what she'd done to Naomi. She pushed the thought away.
"Tell me something else?" she requested. "It seems like people are always asking about me, whether it's because I'm a princess or some other reason. I like hearing about your life."
"Okay," Gabe smiled, his dimples lighting up again.
She liked listening to him talk, even if his storytelling tended to be nonlinear and included a lot of tangents. He told her about his Abuela's "famous" chilaquiles and promised to have her send some so Lydia could witness the magic in person. He recounted the unfortunate drunken circumstances that had resulted in him getting a butterfly tattoo on his back (and then showed her when she declared that she didn't believe it). He described his favorite holiday—New Year's—and the cookout, bonfire style celebration that they commemorated it with back in Midston in such perfect detail that Lydia felt like she could picture if perfectly, even though she'd never been to the province.
But even though he was telling her about things that made him laugh or happy, Lydia could tell that he was a little frustrated by the small town that he came from, that he wanted more than it had ever offered to him. He never mentioned his mother or father, and combined with what he'd told her earlier about his abuela, she assumed he didn't have a good relationship with them. He even told her about his flaws, how he had such a terrible memory that he often had to write things down to make sure he didn't forget.
He was so open that Lydia wondered if he might be a little too trusting. She wondered if she'd ever be able to open up with the Selected the way he was opening up wit her. It seemed impossible, especially when she had such a big secret hanging over her head.
They floated around the lake for the better part of two hours before Lydia admitted that they should probably get back to the palace. She was a little concerned about giving someone the wrong impression by spending so much unscheduled time with one of the guys, even if it was a guy as sweet as Gabe.
He managed to steer them back to the dock without sending them falling into the water again, and when they were both on dry land, Lydia smiled up at him. "I had a really good time today," she confessed.
"Me too," Gabe assured her. "I'm glad you showed up."
"I guess I'll have to thank my mom for her horrific family run after all," joked Lydia.
He chuckled at her joke, but his face was a little more serious as he stared down at her. Lydia was suddenly aware of a few different things: the fact that he was shirtless, their perfect height difference, the way that if she moved forward just a little bit, they'd be touching.
So, without thinking much, she did it. She leaned forward, raised herself up as high as she could on her tiptoes, and hoped that Gabe met her halfway so she didn't look ridiculous or tumble back into the lake. He did, and when his lips touched hers, her heart started hammering around her chest in a jumpy, excited dance.
He wasn't her first kiss, but he was her first Selected kiss, and she realized it meant something different. She also realized that, despite her insistence that she was just going along with the Selection to buy them some time while they tried to help Naomi, she felt something.
It was confusing and exciting and worrying and intoxicating and amazing all at once. She pulled away first. Gabe looked a little punch drunk, but when she met his gaze, he was smiling. "I've wanted to do that for years," he confessed.
Lydia laughed. "Uh, the Selection only started two weeks ago," she pointed out.
"Yeah," nodded Gabe, his cheeks turning red, "you were sort of my first crush though."
It was an oddly vindicating sort of thing to hear. "Did it live up to the hype?" she asked. It was mostly a joke, but she was interested in his response.
"It was better," Gabe assured her.
Given that they were both a little excited and embarrassed, they didn't discuss it further. Instead, she helped him fish the paddleboard out of the water, and they made their way back to the palace together, chattering about unimportant, easy topics instead.
The rest of the day wasn't nearly as eventful as her afternoon with Gabe. She sorted through some outfits that Bex had picked out for her, did some reading about fire fairies that she'd been meaning to get to, and had lunch with the guys in the Men's Parlor again. After, she played with Skadi on the swing set they'd had since they were children. She even managed to peek in on Naomi before dinner. She almost wished she hadn't, because the bruises had only gotten worse, and she went to dinner downcast.
After a day of hiding things from people that she wanted to be open with, she felt exhausted at dinner. People tried to engage her—the Selected, her family, the fairies—but she gave only mumbled responses. She felt bad, because she knew that everyone could tell she was in a poor mood, but it almost felt like she couldn't make herself smile if she tried.
And did she deserve to? That's what plagued her almost as much as her sister's deteriorating condition. How could she keep living her life, laughing with Gabe, playing with Skadi, going through pretty outfits that Bex concocted, while Naomi was dying?
Feeling overwhelmed, Lydia excused herself before anyone else. She thought about going straight back to her room, but she didn't want to risk her mother or aunt or Bex coming to see if she was alright, so instead, she slipped into the gallery.
The room had always been remarkably comforting to her. Her mother's art was beautiful, and the way that colors softly shimmered between shades fascinated Lydia. She left the lights off in favor of the soft glow that emanated from the magical paintings and slid to the ground against one of the walls.
There used to be paintings of Naomi in the room. They'd disappeared when the fairies had cast their curse, but Lydia was always painfully aware of the bare spots on the gallery walls where pictures of Naomi in her tiara or as a child used to hang.
She pulled a photo she'd taken from the fairies' room earlier from the pocket of her pants and gently unfolded it. The spell had masked most of her remnants of her sister as well, but—for a reason that Lydia didn't know but was grateful for—a few things had been left behind, like her starfish necklace and the wrinkled picture in her hand.
They were so young in the picture, thirteen and sixteen respectively, their faces pressed together as they beamed at the camera. It was before Naomi had dyed her hair lighter, and secretly, Lydia had always preferred her sister's dark brown hair. It set her apart from Lydia and Cohen, but it also made Lydia look deeper for resemblances, like their identical green eyes and the similarity in the build of their noses and chins.
Her finger gently caressed the smooth surface of the photo, pausing to cover her own face so that only Naomi smiled up at her. "I'd do it if I could," she whispered to Naomi's picture, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "If I could take your place…"
But before she could get any further in her wallowing, the door to the gallery opened, a sliver of yellow light from the hallway briefly illuminating the room as a tall, thin figure joined her. She was too surprised to stand, and Alistair Lockwood was too surprised to fully enter the room, so they stared at each other from their respective places for a long moment.
"I'm sorry," Alistair finally offered tensely. "I didn't realize anyone was in here."
Lydia shook her head. "It's alright," she offered, "You're allowed to be here too."
He didn't look convinced. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I would hate to intrude."
Although she would usually respond instantly, to be convincing even if it wasn't true, she hesitated. But Alistair didn't seem like he said it just out of politeness. He seemed like the kind of person who knew what it was like to genuinely want to be on one's own and didn't want to intrude on that for someone else. And for all those reasons, she replied, "It's no intrusion at all."
He nodded, and while he entered the room fully, he didn't make any move to approach her. Instead, he turned towards one of the paintings on the wall and studied it. He didn't just look—he seemed to be reading it, like it was filled with words instead of colors.
Part of her wanted to leave him alone, but a larger part was intrigued by this boy that she'd heard so much about because of her family background. Truthfully, she'd expected him to be a little haughtier and condescending, like people who were born with the world at their finger tips unfortunately seemed to be, in Lydia's experience. Thus far, he'd only been quiet and enigmatic.
"I take it you like art?" she surmised.
He glanced over his shoulder briefly at her. "Yes," he nodded. There was a small silence before he added, "Your mother is incredibly talented."
Lydia smiled. "She'd love to hear that." Alistair only gave a noncommittal hum.
A few moments passed as Alistair studied the wall and Lydia studied him. But she couldn't read him like he read Collette's paintings, and finally, she defeatedly stood. "I'll leave you alone," she smiled. Alistair gave an appreciative nod.
As she passed Alistair, she hardly even felt the photo slip from her fingers. She wouldn't have noticed at all if he hadn't stooped to collect it. "You dropped this."
Her heart jumped into her throat as she watched him glance down at the picture. When he noticed her staring at him, he brusquely muttered, "Sorry," and held it out to her. She took it but couldn't bring herself to shove it back into her pocket.
For the first time since she'd met him though, he seemed genuinely interested in her. "Is she a friend?" he asked, almost like he couldn't stop himself.
Lydia paused, and it was long enough to give Alistair the chance to mumble, "Never mind. I don't want to pry." He turned back towards the art.
Lydia turned her gaze to the picture he was looking at. It was of a mountain cabin. Collette wouldn't remember if someone asked her now, but they had spent Christmas in the cabin one year when Lydia was nine because she and Naomi had petitioned for a White Christmas for months.
The tearful burn was back, and Lydia had to swallow the lump in her throat before she admitted, "She was a very good friend."
Alistair nodded like he knew. Whether he realized he did it, Lydia noticed his right hand potted the pocket of his shirt, like it held its own very good friend. "Was," he echoed.
Despite how nervous she had been to even remotely talk about Naomi with Gabriel earlier, now she couldn't help herself. It was vague, and she wasn't even sure if Alistair cared to hear, but she continued, "We haven't spoken in a very long time."
Another nod. To her surprise, he turned to lock eyes with her. "Did you part well?" he asked. His voice almost sounded hopeful. "Sometimes, it helps," he added, "if you did."
Suddenly, Lydia felt frozen, almost like she'd been jolted back to the last time she'd seen Naomi awake. She was trapped in the bushes, thorns ripping through her skin as her power worked to heal her, and she couldn't do anything as she watched Naomi disappear into the castle. She called after her sister, tears streaking her cheeks as she realized what an enormous mistake she'd made and the danger she'd subjected them both to.
As Alistair watched her, his brow furrowed. "You don't have to tell me," he offered briskly when he noticed one tear escape her eye.
She wiped it away, forcing a smile instead. "No," she confessed, "but I know that I'll get to see her again, and hopefully, I can make things better."
Alistair's expression was unreadable, but he noted, "Optimistic."
"I have to be." She folded the picture and tucked it away. "Goodnight, Alistair." She fled the gallery as quickly as would have been acceptable, realizing just how badly she needed to be alone.