The young witch's mind screamed about how improper this was. She enjoyed the friendship shared with Benedict Hunter well enough. In the eyes of Society, they were fated to be opposites, no more likely to mix than oil and water. It was surprising to her that Zinnia had yet to intervene, a surprise that whispered a soothing suggestion. Perhaps this was the way of friendships after all, freed from the constraints of school and the wandering eyes of portraits. Her hands fretted, one at her throat to find the necklace there, the other hastily turning pages she had not read.
![[Image: uHwnE8q.png]](https://i.imgur.com/uHwnE8q.png)