"Do not worry about Lilith. I promise to take good care of her. Heal your father." Anstice whispered in Mircea's ear while she had Mircea in a death grip, giving her a good-bye hug.
Anstice had come first thing in the morning, banging on Mircea's door to apologize about yesterday's incident.
Mircea had told her not to fret about it much, but she kept saying sorry. Again and again.
In the last two days, Anstice had warmed up to Mircea. She was a bubble of sunshine and laughter made by Saints themselves. She took care of Lilith, Athos and Mircea like her own people.
Mircea felt surreal around her.
How could she trust some strangers who had stumbled upon her door injured?
Urban told her it was just the way his sister is. Mircea felt a pang of jealousy; she wished she could have such trust in people, such faith.
Anstice's faith was rare and beautiful.
The steel clock hit seven. It was time.
