dawn, and with it

Delah

The games of luck our soldiers played
The stones we cut, the songs we made

Delah watches the horns appear with a predatory amusement. If anything she likes Amalia better like this, but she knows it won't last. "Your worth is what you are to the world. Whatever you are hidden deep inside is not you." But the guardian was not here to debate personal philosophies; already her patience was growing short.

"Books?" Delah's arms relax slightly, her interest thoroughly gained. "Go on."