"I won't give up," Jocelynn promised.
The words were simple, and her promise was brittle at the edges, but for the moment, Nyrielle accepted it as it had been spoken. It was a spark, and it had found dry tinder; it just needed a bit of gentle coaxing to catch and ignite a real flame. And perhaps, one day, Jocelynn would burn as brightly as Ashlynn's other witches already did.
"Come with me," Nyrielle said, stepping away from Jocelynn long enough to cover the painting. "There's a better place for us to talk where you can be more comfortable," she said as a mischievous smile appeared on her lips.
"I can lead you there if you like, or I can carry you the way I carry your sister if your legs aren't up to walking," she teased. "My darling pushes herself so hard; I've carried her back to bed far too often," she said, holding up her hands as if she was helpless while a wide smile that revealed a hint of her fangs blossomed on her lips.
