She pressed against me hungrily, slick against my fingers.

For the love of the Six, don’t call me that. Just Mare. Yes, like a horse. Stupid, I know, but I can’t stand Amaranthine. What a ridiculously overlong and pretentious collections of syllables.

Our hands fitted together like the interlocking pieces of a puzzle.

Kissed my neck and trailed her lips over my shoulder.

An Affinity, much like a heart, cannot be changed.

I had always wanted to be like my perfect older sister but always seemed to fall short – too shy, too bookish, too impulsive to be a true leader.

I pulled the nightgown over her head so that our bare skin could meet.

Partnerships can be built, but love can’t be coaxed. Love should feel like the first time you gallop a horse flat out. It should make your blood sing. It should terrify you. And some part of you should recognize it the first time you meet the other person’s eyes.

Look at it this way – after we get out of here, this will make a great tale. What good is life if you don’t have wild stories to tell when you’re old?

There are other ways to seek justice. More death isn’t the answer. It never is. This isn’t you, Ina. The girl I love is passionate, and gentle, and kind.