Zerana;
I stare at Selthía's graceful figure in the silence of the room.
She's resting her weight on one leg and has her hips pushed out on one side.
Although her body might be here, I can tell that her mind is several miles away.
She quiet. The kind of quiet that means her mind is screaming. I hate seeing her like this.
Spine held straight, hands folded behind her back, and chin slightly lifted — the posture she uses when she wants the world to believe she is calm.
But she can never hide her truth from me. She's anything but calm.
Her magic betrays her. It curls restlessly around her, tugging at the hem of her dress like an anxious child.
I walk to her without announcing myself. I never need to. She always seems to know when I'm around her.
The moment I stop beside her, a few steps to her back, I clearly see what she's staring at — the garden below, where the moonlight spills like milk over everything in its path.
