Elara grinned. "Rebel."
Amara only grinned back, fingers laced tight through Elara's as if daring the city to try and separate them. They walked together through the soft Paris evening, the city humming with possibility. A thousand years of lovers, poets, and dreamers had left their ghosts behind in every golden puddle of lamplight, and tonight Amara and Elara added their names side by side, not quite anonymous, but quietly lost in the world that was just theirs.
"Where are you taking me, exactly?" Elara asked, shooting Amara a suspicious glance as they rounded a corner and left the last of the studio lights behind.
Amara adopted her most imperious tone. "You, mademoiselle, are in the hands of a woman of mystery. Your only task is to trust me."
Elara snorted. "That sounds exactly like something a kidnapper would say."
