Maya Motayne

But if you could die in a moment, then maybe you could live in one too. And if she could choose a moment to suspend, to hold gently between her palms, she thought, it might be this one: with the prince’s eyes on hers and the knowledge that she was not who Ignacio had said she was. She was herself

Luka leaned forward. “I know your type.”

“My type?” She snorted. “I’m afraid there’s only one of me. I’m a bit too original to warrant a type.”

“Where will you go?” he asked, his voice soft and desperate. Finn wanted to bottle the sound so that she might uncork it and listen to it whenever she needed a reason to smile. Or frown. He cleared his throat.