Maeve
“Can I have a bite of that?” I asked, motioning toward the turkey leg wrapped in greasy brown paper that Troy was holding up to his mouth as he prepared to take a bite. He arched his brow, then sighed, handing me the leg and shaking his head at me as I took the largest bite possible.
“I could have bought you your own—”
“I didn’t want one until you had one,” I grinned, enjoying my bite.
Troy wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we continued to walk through the square in the University Center of Mirage, which was now housing a huge market and festival to celebrate the Winter Solstice.
It felt odd being not only this happy but this carefree. Three days ago, I had been standing outside the remains of the cave system, in a white, soiled dress, thinking my family had just been crushed to death.
Now I was walking around Mirage beneath webs of paper lanterns, my mate’s arm around my shoulders and his turkey leg, which was now mine, in my hand.
