“Mids,” Jesse sighs, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head at Midnight, exhausted and frustrated. He peeks over the top of the separating screen that Juniper gave them, well aware that the tent full of ambassadors and Atalaxian royals is listening to their heated conversation and casually pretending that they’re not.
“I don’t want to go,” Midnight growls, curled in a ball at his feet, her face tucked tight against her knees and her hands sunk deep in her hair. “You can’t make me!”
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