Blackfeather Woods and then one day you find ten years have got behind you

He was sweet. Quiet and sweet. Sometimes, Maegi pondered the nature of their relationship. Was it too unbalanced? Was she too overbearing, he too submissive? By refusing to take his opinion, here, had she further opened a gap between them? She worried over it, and her mouth wobbled in a shaky frown, this time anxious and not angry.

"Sorry for getting mad at you," she continued, then laughed softly. "I'm kinda bad at listening and taking advice." When had she ever taken criticism without feeling hurt or scorn? Even from her most trusted of allies, words stung. And she didn't know how to fix it.

Was this inherited from Potema, or Cicero, instead? Or was it something new entirely, or passed down from an ancestor she'd never met?

She was getting sleepy, and she stifled a yawn, feeling everything slow down even further. Maegi curled closer to him, tucking her head under his chin again. At least when neither of them were speaking, it felt even. It felt safe.