I stared at the vanity mirror in Brenda’s room, my brows knitted together as she fussed with my hair. She was relentless, pinning and unpinning sections with a precision that was starting to feel unnecessary.
“Brenda,” I muttered, the frustration evident in my tone, “you’re putting more effort into this than I’ve ever put into anything in my entire life.”
“That’s because you never cared to play the game before,” she quipped, holding up a strand of hair as if examining it under a microscope.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m starting to think I should’ve stayed ignorant.”
Brenda shot me a look, one that could have melted ice. “Amira, stop being difficult. You want to charm Daemon or not?”
“Charm is a strong word,” I mumbled, slouching in the chair.
She sighed, dropping the strand and turning to
