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"Gillian," says Firtha, tone a little chiding, a little teasing.
Having Firtha around has been a lot like having an older sister, especially because she’s frozen at the age she died.
That part makes it more like having an older sister who was also dead living in your body.
Yes, I know how that sounds.
“Firtha,” I say, trying to match her tone. I’m building a little cairn of rocks, and she settles down beside me. She hands me a smooth stone. I don’t tell her the cairn is for her, that I think the day she no longer appears will be the day I finish it. I don’t think I need to tell her.
Case in point: “You need to tell that girl you like her before I am not here anymore.”
“The girl” in question is Diva Ryan, daughter of the head of the Ryan clan. She was already half-Roane and beautiful when we met, her eyes carnival glass green, sporting freckles like little constellations on her face. She smiles like it’s her job, even when she’s sad, and is ridiculously fun to talk to. Also beautiful. I think about that a lot. And we’ve come to an understanding, since our time in Saltmist, about our biological mothers. Our friendship has solidified.
“I don’t want to ruin a good thing,” I say. Good things frequently get taken away.
“It will make you happier in the days to come to have a companion,” Firtha says. “I will not be here forever. And you can stay friends for as long as you want, but you may miss the chance to find love.”
I want to roll my eyes, but Firtha has a point. “It would make you happy, too,” I say.
Firtha smiles, and hands me another stone. “Yes.”
I take a deep breath. “Then I’ll try.”