Luke told himself it was admiration.
He’d been petrified that night, thinking that she would turn him in. But she hadn’t. He had been allowed to stay in a place that had warmth, food and shelter – things he was so, so grateful for.
She was so different the next time he saw her, but he knew who she was right away. The kind and arrogant girl was still there; she was just four years older. He saw her reading a story to Timothy, one of the Clan boys, in a voice that was softer and gentler than the polite, cold tones she’d used earlier.
He didn’t know why she put on that mask of ice, because the girl he saw beneath it was worth knowing.
He told himself it was admiration. But he didn’t believe it.