“But the bond—"
“The bond doesn't care about political matches. You know that. Plus, there was no guarantee when the Messenger would appear or if a match would be identified for him.”
Iva had felt a shudder cross her body—a cold, terrible tremor that started at the base of her spine and radiated outward.
“Poor Lori,” she had thought. “Poor, sweet, kind Lori.”
She had prayed in that moment—prayed to the Goddess, to the moon, to any power that might be listening—that her best friend would not undergo the pain she herself had felt with Nick. The rejection. The humiliation. The slow, agonizing death of hope.
“We'll figure it out,” Caleb had said. “Together. Don’t tell her about the fiancé or his engagement, even if she is your best friend. This is between them, let them sort it out.”
--
