Maeve's POV
Three weeks into Blackwood University, I had established a routine.
Routines were important. They were the scaffolding you built around a life so that life had a pattern to it.
Mine went early alarm, shower, foundation over the bond mark, suppressants, coffee from the machine on the first floor of the dorm that tasted burnt, and then out into the morning before Alana woke up and tried to make me talk about my feelings.
Alana had many gifts and restraint was not among them.
She hadn't asked directly. I had been waiting for it, bracing for the morning. She woke up before me and sat across the room, hellbent on starting a conversation, and every day it hadn't happened yet was a day I was grateful for. She had seen the mark. She was not stupid, and I knew she was biding h
